
rw^^J 




LiBRARY^QF CONGRESS. 

.- Copyright N5r..../._ 



Chap. ._ Copjrig 

Shelf. ^^ 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



LOVE'S WAY AND OTHER POEMS 



LOVE'S WAY 

And Other Poems 



BY 



MARTIN SWIFT 




CHICAGO 

A. C. McCLURG AND COMPANY 

1897 




TWO COPIES RECEIVED 






Copyright 
By a. C. McClurg and Co. 

A.D. 1897 



CONTENTS 



Proem 7 

Love's Way: A Story in Songs ... 11 

The Vision of Galileo 79 

Heracles upon CEta loi 

Moods and Phases : 

Nocturne 115 

Vesper Sighs 121 

Memento Mori 128 

''Diana's Bath" 131 

Ephemera : 

"The Last Token" 141 

"Far Above Rubies" 142 

Independence Day 143 

Rhadamanthus 144 

To BABy Bayard 146 

A Rogue's Epitaph 149 

The Flight of Time 150 

Epitaph : Catherine de Medicis . . 151 

From the French of Mme. de Stael . 151 

Hide-and-Seek 152 

On a Blank Page of Thackeray . . 153 



PROEM 

C^WEET is the hour ; the hush of evening lies 
^ Upon the lovely vale ; the river* s plaint 
No answering sighs repeat. 
Save when a wandering zephyr faint 
Amid the tufted pines replies. 
Or when the humming-bird her supper sweet 
Seeks in the woodbine of my rustic porch. 
Already from the mountains there descends 
A cooler atmosphere, a hint of dew ; 
Soon will the sun^ s far-flaming torch. 
That brands with such a sanguinary hue 
Yon fairy flock of clouds, be hid from sight ; 
Now, ere sweet Mother Night 
Her wand of slumber waves, and every flower 
Bows its fair head, behold! my winged friends. 
The merry swallows, at their wonted hour. 
With cheerful cries their mazy games pursue. 

Te twittering rompers, that from infancy 
I still have loved; ye chevy-chasing crew. 
In orange clad and blue. 
That prattle at your pretty play 
With such a winsome glee, 
A boon I beg of you. 
7 



Proem 

Lend me your names awhile ^ I pray ! 
For I in verse my very heart have bared ^ 
Have told the story of my love, and dared 
To praise my lady by her own sweet name. 
Were it not shame 

That all the world should peer into my nest ? 
Beneath your frolic hood, in sooth. 
My features harsh and form uncouth 
May well remain unguessed. 

Nay, do not scorn the jest. 

Nor deem the fair disguise unfit ! 

I too, O swallows, am an April bird. 

And I across the sea in Spring did flit. 

Like yours, my heart at Winter^ s close 

By strange desires is ever stirred ,• 

The season of the opening rose 

Pipes to my spirit many a dance ; 

And though across my broadening brow 

Dull Time has driven his plough, 

A child'* s caress, a maideti^ s glance. 

The soft emotions of my prime renew. 

Wrinkles and eld I still forget. 

My boyhood"* s heart I cherish yet ; 

Kinship I claim, O birds of Spring, with you f 

i8g6. 



LOVE'S WAY 

A STORY IN SONGS 

** In'veniam aut faciam 'viam " 



Love's Way and Other Poems 



LOVE'S W^AY 



/^ MOUNTAIN brook, that, plunging o'er the 
^"^ steep, 

Makest in greenwood a melodious moan. 
Still with perpetual kisses delving deep 

A smoothed furrow in a heart of stone ; 
This message murmur in my lady's ear. 

That, steel her bosom howsoe'er she may. 
My love shall persevere. 

And find or fashion a victorious way. 

And ye, O maples, at whose mossy feet 

My prayer was uttered, and my hope deferred. 
Hide it among your echoes, and repeat 

In balmy whispers every burning word ! 
Besiege her heart with all your babbling leaves. 
Shriek down the midnight, in the gloaming sigh ! 

Till to my vacant eaves. 
Pierced with love's arrow, the dear wanderer fly. 
II 



Love's Way and Other Poems 



Night of the harvest moon. 
Magical night of amethystine skies. 
Odorous, wooing, deep-eyed, passionate night. 
Bland and bewitching hours ! 

Sighs of the delicate breeze. 
Languorous, dreamy, rhythmic, undulant sighs. 
Chorus of insect-voices, music of wings. 
Murmur of waters afar ! 

Floating snatches of song. 
Tender and thrilhng, eloquent, liquid song. 
Piercing and wild, rich with emotion sweet. 
Sinking to soar anew ! 

I to your soft appeal, 

I to your charms and witching flatteries fond. 
Hinting of love, throbbing, alive with love. 
Answer a mute Amen. 



Love's Way 

Yearning and desolate heart. 
Heart of the sea-devoured, unfruitful springs. 
Brooding, inactive heart, awake, av^ake ! 
For thee is hope, for thee 

The silvery bugles call. 

Swells the white sail, the silver-winged shaft 

Flashes to theeward, and the star of love 

Glows in the balmy night. 

The melting, amorous night ! 



Lovers Way and Other Poems 



III 

O not so primrose-pale as thou 

My Lilian's cheek, proud Moon, may be. 
Nor doth she 'tire so bright a brow. 

Nor move with such a majesty. 

But when her glance encounters mine. 
And o'er her brown and bonny face 

The blushes run like ruddy wine — 
A fig for all thy ghostly grace ! 



H 



Love's IVay 



Parting, a doubtful smile she flashed. 
Not wholly storm, nor sunshine clear. 

Then, half in mirth and half abashed. 
She pinned these *' daisies " here. 

Not the " wee, modest *' flowers that grace 
The twinkling sward of English fields. 

But sturdier sisters, of the race 
Our climate yields. 

What word is theirs, I marvel much ; 

The rose I know, the heliotrope. 
But these — 't is certain, at their touch 

My bosom thrills with hope ! 

So, mountains, guard my lady well ! 

And when I come again — who knows ? - 
With happier sighs my heart may swell 

Under the rose. 



IS 



Lovers Way and Other Poems 



Ah ! those enchanted mountains 
And wild mysterious dells. 

Where still with Dusk and Silence 
A haunting witchery dwells ! 

Goblins nor ghouls overlooked me. 
Nor elves nor pygmy trolls. 

Nor, 'mid the red storm looming. 
The phantom crew at bowls. 

But every bush was vocal 
With tongues of prophecy ; 

The moonbeams fell a-dancing 
To maddest minstrelsy ; 

And soon a lovely lady 

(Or Cupid in disguise) 
Did pierce me through the bosom 

With sweetly-slaying eyes. 



16 



Lovers Way 



VI 

All in the limpid moonshine. 
In serried ranks arrayed. 

Our mimic hosts were marshalled ; 
The " royal game ' * we played. 

But skill in arms forsook me ; 

My king was a coward loon. 
And, like the Egyptian faint-heart. 

My queen deserted soon. 

To you though I surrendered, 
'T was with a god I strove. 

Who bore upon his breastplate 
The conquering rose oi Love. 



17 



Lovers Way and Other Poems 



VII 

Ha, treachery, treachery ! 

This cozening message here 
Hath sinister meanings plain to see ; 

A plot, a plot I fear ! 

There 's a mist upon my eyes. 

Like the gloom that follows the flash ; 

And a fresh surmise each moment plies 
On my heart a barbed lash. 

And it 's oh for one free glance 
In my true-love's trusting face ! 

And oh to borrow the seraph's lance 
And rout the liars apace ! 

To her side I '11 hie me straight ; 

Let calumny do its worst ! 
I '11 cleave the knot of my tangled fate. 

Be the issue blest or curst ! 



i8 



Lovers Way 



I muse on the deck at midnight. 
In vain I strive to sleep ; 

Almost I 'd be a maiden. 
To hide my face and vv^eep. 

By farm and hamlet gliding. 
We plough a silvery path ; 

Thor moans in fitful slumber. 
The wildfire leaps in wrath. 

What's yon? A blood- red spectre 
That grins in a fiery shroud ? 

Or is it the old moon peering 
From under a fold of cloud ? 

My soul with a shapeless terror 
Is grappling in the gloom. 

And o'er my heart is creeping 
The coldness of a tomb. 



19 



Love's Way and Other Poems 



IX 

The weary night is over. 

The lingering journey done ; 
Hard by, the hostel windows 

Are winking in the sun. 

What witch's broth is brewing 

Beneath yon rustic roof? 
What poisoned threads commingle 

For me their warp and woof? 

Well ! for the web, I '11 rend it. 

And spill the cursed bree ! 
Fair truth shall be my banner. 

And love, my panoply. 

Blow, breezes of the morning. 

And fill my veins with fire ! 
Hurrah for Love, the hero. 

And down with every liar ! 

The orioles and the catbirds 

Their silver bugles blow ; 
'* Speed ! speed ! " meseems they bid me. 

And on in haste I go. 



Lovers Way 

Yet, ah ! perchance *tis fated 
My coming falls too late ! 

— Thro' all the world I'll seek her. 
And strive, and hope, and wait ! 

Look, look ! a blue robe fluttering, 

A slender form I see ! 
Nay, fly not thus, my dearest ! 

In peace I come to thee. 



21 



Lovers Way and Other Poems 



My Love has fled, I know not whither. 

And, ah, my heart is like a stone! 
The beauty of the world went with her. 
Its light is flown. 

Old age has nipt me, out of season ; 

Alike to me are ill and good ; 
I reck no more of troth or treason. 
Poison or food. 

Tho* Earth were smit with sudden thunder 

And high as Ophiucus hurled. 
Nought should I show of dread or wonder ; 
Lost is my world. 

My Love has fled, I know not whither. 

And, ah, my heart is like a stone ! 
The gladness of the world went with her. 
The grace is flown. 

No more sweet Poesy doth move me. 

Nor Music with her melting charm ; 
Nor smiles of little ones that love me 
Nor kisses warm. 

22 • 



Love's Way 

There lives no sweetness in the blossom ; 

The glory of the moon has fled ; 
The bloom forsakes the morning's bosom. 
And Pan is dead. 

The birds a malediction twitter ; 

The winds in fiendish mockery call ; 
The fountain of my life runs bitter. 
Wormwood and gall. 

My Love has fled, I know not whither. 

And, ah, my heart is like a stone ! 
The music of the world went with her. 
The charm is flown. 

What mortal prize is worth the winning ? 

New there is nought below the sun. 
Where toil and sorrow, strife and sinning 
Are never done. 

For as the spark that, helpless ranging. 

Drifts upward from the furnace-glow. 
So man is born, by doom unchanging. 
To certain woe. 
23 



Lovers Way and Other Poems 

And Love, that feigns with gentle fingers 

A balm upon his hurts to pour. 
Plants in his breast a wound that lingers 
Till life is o'er. 



24 



Lovers Way 



XI 

A dull desire oppressed me 
To view the spray-fed pool 

Of our dear Vallombrosa, 
And drink its fragrance cool. 

O blossom-white the water 

Flashed in its downward spring. 

And " Phoebe ! " on the branches 
Some bird began to sing. 

There came a prick-eared squirrel 
And eyed me curiously. 

Squirrel, my heart is broken. 
But what is that to thee ? 



25 



Lovers Way and Other Poems 



XII 

My heart is full of sorrow. 
From tears I hardly keep. 

And scarce ere break of morning 
I snatch an hour of sleep. 

And like a dog forsaken. 
That still forlornly roves. 

In every stranger seeking 
The master that he loves. 

So at each passing rustle 

I think, ** If this were she ! '* 
But nevermore my darling 

Bends her blue eyes on me. 



26 



Lovers Way 



The summer sun is gleaming fair. 
But in my veins the winter dwells, 
A frost no genial ray dispels. 
Its name despair. 

Night hath no gloom like apathy ; 
No silence like the hush that falls 
When through the heart's deserted halls 
Hope's echoes die. 

For Hope a sweeter song did know 
Than ever Philomel could sing. 
And brighter than the morns of spring 
Her torch's glow. 

But now for her the bell be tolled ; 
Dead, dead she lies upon her bier! 
Yet, sooth, I cannot shed a tear ; 
All 's dull and cold ! 



27 



Love's Way and Other Poems 



Smoothly the river winds 

Thro' the tall arches, and along the vale 

That, curtained o'er by silken skies. 

In soft siesta lies ; 

But where the long rays touch the waters pale. 

The severed shores a girdle binds 

Of brilliants all aglow. 

Around me on the slope the stately trees 

Nod with a slumberous iteration slow 

Their heavy heads, whose leafy locks are stirred 

By some high-hovering breeze ; 

The squirrel chatters, and a passing hum 

Of happy voices now and then is heard. 

And stealing echoes come 

Of song or plashing oar. 

This were in truth a lovely scene 
For one whose mood should match yon smiling sky*s ; 
But I with altered eyes 
Gaze evermore ; 

Low in my soul the storm-clouds brood. 
And yonder orb serene 
And crystal-shining flood 
28 



Love's Way 

Mock my unrest with their tranquillity. 

And still my inward eye 

Seeks the white hostel at the mountain's base. 

And o'er and o'er, in sombre fantasy 

Of that unhappy day 

When last I saw my darling's face. 

The tragic scenes I play. 

Again the long suspense, the gnawing pain ; 

And oft a golden glimpse, a flying grace. 

Thrills me in vain. 

Once more with that felse friend I interchange 

The few fierce words that in a moment sever 

The ties of old aiFection, and estrange 

Our souls forever. 

And now am I indeed alone ! 

Of all the kindly spirits that abide 

In mortal mould, there is not one 

In whom I can at full confide ; 

No eye whereof I should not ask in vain 

The tender tear that sweetens pain. 

The summons came at last. 
And with a throbbing heart I past 
Into my lady's presence. Worn and wan 
She seemed, and underneath her patient eyes 
The elvish cares with nightly round had made 
A cloven ring of shade ; 
29 



Lovers Way and Other Poems 

Yet bravely she began. 

And with mild looks, as when the murderer Death 

Comes in sweet Sleep's disguise 

And stays the rhythmic breath. 

She bade me seek her love no more. 

Nor vainly to pursue 

Her person to the nameless hiding-place 

Where she would rest a space ; 

E'en then the waiting steeds were at the door, 

And so — adieu! 

But, ah, the anguish old 
Of that black hour 
With griping clutches cold 
Renews upon my soul its power ! 
Again the ache, the sting, the smart. 
As when, my breast with tortures riven. 
By some wild impulse driven. 
Her hand I laid upon my beating heart. 
And then the angel Pity for a space 
Troubled the fountains of her eyes ; 
But soon she set her face. 
And with a stern resolve her bosom steeled ; 
Without, the maples glimmered fair. 
And from the slender branches pealed 
The songbirds' melodies ; 
But in my soul the dews were dried, and care 
30 



Love's Way 

Swept it of blossoms bare. 
And thus in vain would you. 
Far-floating azure, field, and rippling flood, 
With such a tender and a dreamy grace 
Woo the sad poet, singer of wold and wood. 
And bound in beauty's fetters from his birth. 
To praise your loveliness anew ; 
Ye lure him not in any mood. 
For gone with one beloved face 
Is all the goodliness of Earth. 
Your ordered music hath for him 
A jangled note, a grating jar. 
As though a moan from hell should mar 
The symphonies of seraphim. 
Or some pure-gleaming star 
Should howl a ribald hymn. 
Ay me ! my gentle dove is flown. 
My one ewe lamb forever lost ! 
Ah ! would to heaven our paths had never crost ! 
For then I ne'er had known 
This hopeless yearning, this untamed regret. 
Whose preying tooth's perpetual fret 
Wearies the frame, and saps the spirit's might 
More than laborious years in leaden flight. 
Ay, and the haunting visions that delude 
My heart with glimpses falsely fair 
End in a disenchantment rude, 
31 



Lovis Way and Other Poems 

A wakening ill to bear. 

Sweet, prithee cease thy whisperings, late and soon ! 

Mock me no more with footfalls light as air. 

Nor 'twixt the lattices of cloudy bars 

Peer with the peering stars. 

And from the fillet of the crescent moon 

Release the waves of thine ambrosial hair ! 

Not everywhere the storm-clouds lower. 

E'en in fate's darkest hour ; 

Somewhere from out the gloom a feeble ray. 

Some iris faint amid the falling rain. 

Breeds hope again. 

And I remember how, that woful day. 

At my approach the slanderers twain 

Were stricken dumb ; she knows, she knows. 

That I was treacherously belied ; 

That her, and her alone I love ; 

Nor can she 'scape the memory of my woes. 

Though in the forest's heart she hide. 

Or by the furthest ocean rove. 

But, O ye winds that viewless run. 
And all-beholding sun. 
Have ye not spied my wandering bird 
On hill or spreading sea ? 
Dreams she at all of me, 
32 



Lovers Way 

And is her gentle spirit stirred 

With pity for the pangs herself might heal ? 

Haply she looks on ocean's agony. 

And hears forever in its mournful cry 

A stricken heart's appeal ? 

Ah, speak to her, wild waters, and complain 

In melancHoly strain 

Of unrequited love, and faith belied! 

Of Hope's hot fever, and Despair's chill clutch. 

Of young delights that in the blossom died. 

And charming melodies to moanings changed. 

And sister souls estranged ! 

And if her heart ye cannot this way touch. 

Fling at her feet upon the ashen sands 

The corse of some true lover, who hath died 

Victim of woman's pride 

And of a fate ill starred. 

With hollow cheek and pale. 

And tragic mouth, and fond outreaching hands 

By cruel bruises marred 

From rocks no softer than a maiden's heart ! 

And bid her try if any subtlest art 

Can evermore avail 

To mirror in those dull and filmy eyes 

The blue, accusing skies. 



33 



Loves Way and Other Poems 



XV 



My Love in the church is kneeling. 

But aright she cannot pray ; 
Twin tears from her eyes are stealing. 

And her soul is far away. 

To the sill a small bird flutters. 

And sings as his heart would break ; 

'* Sweet ! Sweet ! " is the song he utters, 
" I am dying for thy sake ! '* 



34 



Love's Way 



XVI 

Me all pronounce unhappy. 
And rightly they divine ; 

But, matched with your still sorrow. 
An easy part is mine. 

Brief time have I for brooding ; 

Ten thousand petty cares 
In kindly toil distract me ; 

The day glides unawares. 

But in some lonely chamber 
Fate's harshness you deplore. 

With Love, the houseless angel. 
Still wailing at the door. 

My gift among its pages 

One crimson blossom keeps ; 

And Pity, soft Cassandra, 
Looks out afar, and weeps. 



35 



Love's Way and Other Poems 



XVII 



What ails thee, O thou melancholy Wind, 
That through yon company of noble trees. 

Like to a spirit that hath loved and sinned. 
On rapid wing thou roamest, ill at ease. 

Forever wailing to the quiet stars 

With such a poignant, such a homeless cry 
As fiends in agony 

Shriek thro* the grating of hell' s prison-bars ? 



Rising and falling in a weary wave. 

Like mirthless melodies from frenzy wrung. 

Whose mounting peal is hopeless as the grave. 
Whose cadence, mournful as the plaintive tongue 

Of Dives, uttering his unceasing cry 

For one dear drop of cooling water blest. 
While upon Abraham's breast 

Sleek Lazarus closes a contented eye. 

Is it compassion for our doomed clan 

That breathes a coronach so piteous-wild ? 

Dost know the griefs that gnaw the soul of man. 
The sobs that swell the bosom of a child? 
36 



Lovers Way 

The bitterness of censure undeserved. 
The weariness of uncongenial toil. 
The petty cares that foil 
Ambition for sublime endeavors nerved ? 

The envenomed arrows of Ingratitude, 

And sly Suspicion with her searching blade. 

Friendship's decay, and Love's awakening rude. 
And Faith's illusions that untimely fade? 

The worthless meeds to human efforts given ; 
The waves of unbelief that whelm the soul ; 
The funeral clouds that roll 

Athwart the very face of God in heaven ? 

Or dread Remorse, who with a mocking leer 
Of our unhallowed lives reveals the scroll. 

And laughs to scorn the unavailing tear. 

And rends the raiment from the rotting soul. 

Until in bitter shame for Death we cry 

To thrust us headlong, like the swine possest, 
Down to the lake unblest. 

And hide our vileness from the Pure One's eye ? 

These have I suffered all, and still to me 
Death proffers not her pleasant anodyne ; 

And unto these a grislier enemy 

Succeeds, a devil dumb, to every sign 
37 



Love's Way and Other Poems 

Of sacred sorcery insensible ; 

For fasting and for prayers he budges not. 
Nor heeds he any jot 
The silvery clamor of the sweetest bell. 

Ay, for the lady of my love is fled. 

And my poor heart is famished with denial. 

And Sleep, the pitiful, forsakes my bed. 
And Hope the siren ceases to beguile ; 

And gentle Memory to a Fury turns. 

Grinning from out the caverns of the past ; 
And thou too, savage blast. 

Dost mock the grief that for compassion yearns. 

Give o'er, I pray, those witch's litanies. 
And as from Saul the harping of a swain 

Charmed the fell mood with artless melodies. 
So murmur thou for me a simple strain 

Of changes few but sweet, whose tender flow 
May give this dull and sullen discontent 
In tears a natural vent. 

As kisses of the Spring dissolve the snow. 

And, singing, waft on dewy wings to me. 
Across the furrows of the tossing foam. 

Faint odors from the fields I long to see. 

And breathed memories of my boyhood's home ! 
38 



Love's Way 

Mute messages from unseen violets. 

And of green woods the salutation bland ; 
Till with her witching wand 
Her spell upon my soul sweet slumber sets. 



39 



Lovers Way and Other Poems 

XVIII 

I dreamed I had a heartache ; 

(And that 's no dream, alack !) 
And I sought me out a surgeon, 

A right mellifluous quack. 

An opiate fume he proffered ; 

My lungs I quickly filled. 
And all my fevered ravings 

In slumber's arms v^^ere stilled. 

There came a gracious presence ; 

My darling's form it wore ; 
" Welcome, dear sprite ! " it whispered, 

" To our Elysian shore ! " 

Just then the surgeon roused me ; 

My heart in his hand he had ; 
** See, here 's the suffering organ ! 

A big one, too, egad ! 

" With sores 't was fairly riddled ; 

(This bowl is for the blood) : 
To lose a heart like that, sir. 

Will work a world of good. 
40 



Lovers Way 

" No one will spy the difference ; 

(Five dollars is the fee) : 
A heartless man, believe me. 

Is no such rarity." 

While in my pouch I 'm flimbling. 
With a sudden start I wake ; 

And still within my bosom 
I feel that bitter ache ! 



41 



Lovers Way and Other Poems 



XIX 

Now in the square the fountains play. 
In Sunday suits of silver dight ; 
The weeping- willow' s tresses light 

Enjoy their weekly bath of spray. 

And, book in hand, a modish throng. 
To church the godly folk repair ; 
The priest begins his printed prayer. 

The choir strikes up a venal song. 

The steeples flaunt in highest place 
The gilded cross of Constantine ; 
And through the belfry's fretwork fine 

I see Mephisto's grinning face. 



42 



Lovers Way 



My heart is like a palace 

In a time of strife overthrown. 

By withered shallows glooming 
Silent, and void, and lone. 

Column and frieze and portal 
Are strewn in sordid heaps ; 

The bower is a den of spiders ; 
On the hearth the lizard sleeps. 

In a coign of the cloven terrace 
A form of marble stands ; 

'Tis Niobe, stark wildered. 
Groping with childless hands. 

Silence, and ever silence ! 

Save when at mom is heard. 
From roofless walls re-echoing. 

The moan of a mateless bird. 



43 



Lovers Way and Other Poems 



XXI 

Gay with her flags, our vessel 
Furrows the watery floor ; 

Blue-bright the inlet sparkles. 
Green gleams the shaven shore. 

Fond lovers, laughing maidens. 
Glide past, a festal throng ; 

The minstrel band is playing 
A slow and plaintive song. 

Hard by, a sea-bird hovers. 
Gray-suited like a dove ; 

Ah ! where is she, my darling. 
Who tortures me with love ? 

Shadows and fleeting phantoms ! 

The ship and the grassy shore. 
The happy maids and the minstrels. 

And I with my heartache sore. 



44 



Love's Way 



XXII 



Twin spires in the moonlight gleaming 

Like Polyphemian glaives. 
How sharply fall your shadows 

Athwart the peaceful graves ! 

And would that I were lying 

Far down in the sweet, cool sod, 

A sword-thrust in my bosom. 
And a tear in the eye of God ! 



45 



Lovis Way and Other Poems 



There dwells a damned spirit 
By the Phlegethonian stream. 

Like a statue dumbly gazing 
Where dull the waters gleam. 

For at intervals of ages 
An image faint he spies 

Of the beautiful blue-eyed seraph 
He loved in the happy skies. 



46 



Love's Way 



Ah, God, I care not 
Whatever my fate ; 

My heart is hardened. 
And I can wait. 

For o'er the waters 
Of deepest grief 

Death brings to mortals 
Her olive-leaf. 

But of her sweet life 
The symbols be 

The stars of midnight. 
The slumbering sea! 

Smiles be her guerdon, 
Tho' I take scorns ! 

Give her the roses. 
Be mine the thorns ! 



47 



Lovers Way and Other Poems 



XXV 

Sweet from her hands a gift of flowers there came. 
Pond-lilies, breathing of her own dear name, 
Crownets of ice about a heart oi flame. 

And ne'er did shipwrecked sailor on his raft. 
For whom a succoring sail kind breezes waft. 
Laugh with so blithe a shout as then I laught. 

" She loves me ! " to the foolish flowers I cried ; 
" Dearly she loves me, wheresoe'er she hide; 
And soon with lilies I shall crown my bride ! *' 



48 



Lovers Way 



My flowers if she shall wear to-night. 

Sweet roses, red and white. 
Whose clans for immemorial years 

Have been Love's messengers. 
You chalices of ruby-red 

Wherein Love's heart hath bled. 
Or you, that from his weeping eyes 

Have lost your Tyrian dyes, — 
My flowers if she shall wear to-night 

Upon her bosom white. 
Then, minstrels all, your tenderest lay 

On flute and viol play. 
And with soft spells her mind entrance ! 

That so, by happy chance. 
Into the citadel, though blind. 

Young Love his way may find. 
My flowers if she shall wear to-night. 

My roses red and white. 



49 



Love's Way and Other Poems 



XXVII 

Tap, tap ! the signal sounded. 
And the plaintive strings began 

That most melodious utterance 
Of the yearning soul of man. 

That soars, a mystic fountain 

Of mingled fire and snow. 
Where Death with Love lies prisoned, — 

The "Ave" of Charles Gounod. 

And my heart, that like a wild bird 
Had fluttered the evening long. 

Sprang up on its wounded pinions. 
Upborne by the spirit of song. 

And I told anew the story 

Of all my bosom's pain. 
In a last appeal for the promise 

I had striven so sore to gain. 

Up, up with the springing rainbow 
The fountain of melody soared. 

Then, soft as the moonbeams descending. 
The refluent murmurs poured. 
50 



Lovers Way 

And a tear beneath her lashes 

Like a dewdrop gleamed and fell ; 

And as wax her heart grew tender 
In the grasp of a heavenly spell. 

Like a pall the silence followed ; 

But the audience one and all 
Broke out with a cheer that startled 

The frescoes upon the wall. 

And the leader, the vain little fellow. 

Like a comic marionette. 
Spun about, grimacing and bowing 

In a demi-pirouette. 

And I cried, " Ah, let us hear thee. 

Sweet music, once again. 
And down will topple the ramparts ! 

I shall plead no more in vain ! ' ' 

Wild hope ! yet her glance confirmed it. 
If its meaning I guessed aright ; 

And I smote my palms like a madman. 

And shouted with all my might. 

51 



Lovers Way and Other Poems 

Grotesque as a South-Sea idol. 
The leader coquettishly smiled 

Like a maiden of tvvoscore summers 
By a flattering boy beguiled. 

One livelong terrible moment 
My fate in the balance hung ; 

Then, hurrah ! with a gracious gesture 
His baton the hero swung ! 

Up, up with the leap of the rainbow 
The fountain of melody sprang, 

Thefi, soft as the shadows descending. 
The plaintive cadence rang. 

Down to her sheaf of roses 

The tears were falling fast. 
And the windows of heaven were opened. 

And the sweet words whispered at last ! 

Blessed be Superstition, 

And thou. Saint Vanity ! 
And dear to my heart is the anthem 

That won my Own for me ! 
52 



Love's Way 

Give me to hear that music 

When in death's embrace I lie, 

And forth as a bird from its prison 
With a song my soul shall fly! 



53 



Love's Way and Other Poems 



Ah, gracious morn ! methinks each living creature 

Hath fellowship in happiness with me ; 
That Lilian's " Yes" hath filled the heart of Nature 
With pure felicity. 

Low to the rose the nightingale has hymned it. 
The bees have buzzed it in the bluebell's ear ; 
Fair on the sward the sunny rays have limned it. 
Fair on the dimpling mere. 

More softly sighs the wind among the rushes ; 

Whistles the bobolink a sprightlier tune ; 
The sunset with a rosier crimson flushes. 
With mellower fire the moon. 

And friendlier faces by the wayside meet me ; 

Blither each voice, warmer each clasping hand ; 
Pastimes my duties are ; dull volumes greet me 
With poet-phrases bland. 

Fancies, forsooth ! in mine own heart the change is ; 

No longer lies the veil upon my brow ; 
'T is joy that wins us friends, despair estranges ; 
World ! we are comrades now ! 
54 



Love's Way 



O Hymen, what a tempest 

He brings upon his head. 
Who under love's compulsion 

Craves w^ickedly to wed ! 

'T is true I Ve won the fortress. 

But harder fights remain. 
For there 's a hold of dragons 

And dowagers to gain. 

The kinsfolk and the gossips 
Wag all their noddles wise. 

And every withered virgin 
Shuts fast her prudish eyes. 

Tom thinks my features Jewish ; 

Jack hints a wife abroad ; 
'* He 's poor as Job," cries Mabel ; 

"He needs a nurse," quoth Maud. 

They meet in their committees. 

Their protocols to draw ; 
Methinks my suit resembles 

Too much a suit at law. 
55 



Love's Way and Other Poems 

And spies they set upon me 
To scan my way of life ; 

O, cry you mercy, gentles ! 
I do but ask a wife. 

Like bees when danger threatens 
The empress of the hive. 

They swarm in angry thousands ; 
Well if I 'scape alive ! 

Deliver me, dear Hymen, 
From all the buzzing crew ! 

Marriage, I trow, is hanging. 
Since 't is a crime to woo. 



56 



Lovis Way 



XXX 

Victoria ! they are vanquished. 

The doubters every one ! 
Now speed the marriage morning. 

Thou laggard autumn sun ! 

No more with tedious warnings 

And boding hints unkind 
The cousinhood of scorners 

Can vex my darling's mind. 

They harried and perplexed her. 

Poor patient soul ! until 
The hours of night she numbered 

In prophecies of ill. 

And, ah ! the piteous letter 

That yestermorn I had ! 
Fond sighs with moans commingling. 

And merry notes with sad ! 

Forth to her home I hurried. 
With generous ire aflame ; 

Fresh from her household labors 
In plain attire she came. 
57 



Love's Way and Other Poems 

Nought cared I for her vesture ; 

I clasped her in my arms. 
And with kind words and kisses 

I soothed her vague alarms. 

And then and there she promised — 

So manfully I strove — 
Before the snows of winter 

To crown my waiting love. 

Ah, happy hour ! and happier 

The melting eventide. 
When forth between the lindens 

I rode, my Love beside ! 

The rosy fire that, floating 

Adown the vista green. 
Soft bloom and fairy lightness 

Gave to the rustic scene. 

Seemed the sublime expression 
Of our transcendent mood. 

The breath and effluent ardor 
Of bliss and gratitude. 
58 



Love's Way 

Then farewell in the gloaming. 
Soon, soon to meet anew. 

With many a parting after. 
But nevermore Adieu ! 

Now speed the marriage morning. 
Thou tardy -moving sun ! 

The doubters all are silenced. 
The battlefield is won ! 



59 



Lovers Way and Other Poems 



XXXI 

Of old, they tell us, unto mortal kind 

The gods descended, shapes unearthly fair ; 
Yea, and for boys did Love herself unbind 
Her breasts, her shining hair. 

And stars have sprung from heaven for very love 

Of sister stars in Ocean's mirror cold ; 
And each wan wave to the wan moon above 
Is knit with threads of gold. 

I well believe it, for myself did see 

As, parting loath, one backward glance I sped. 
How like a nesting dove to me, to me. 
Sweet Lilian fled ! 



Love's Way 



A hush is on the woods, and the wide sea 

Lies voiceless as the heavens ; yon snowy cloud 
Sleeps Hke a sail becalmed, and lily-browed 
From star to star the round moon silently 
Floats like a flower. Love, what a harmony 

Silence with motion makes ! how rude and loud 
Were hum of insect here, or chirp of bird. 
Or softest lute beneath a lattice heard ! 



6i 



Love's Way and Other Poems 



XXXIII 

A picture in my memory comes and goes. 
Limned in a friendly contest, one of three 
With "Silence" for a subject. Gracefully 

Above a marble sill a climbing rose 

Bends backwards, touching with a cheek that glows 
With life' s own royal color — can it be ? — 
A human skull, type of mortality. 

That grins in mockery of death's repose. 

Silence ? ah, no ! far deeper lies the thought ! 
The infinite and eternal tenderness 
Of yearning Nature speaks in that caress : 

Love's dower is beauty ; Love despises nought ; 

And unto us, my Own ! there comes unsought 
The grace of pity, the desire to bless. 



62 



Lovers Way 



XXXIV 

One happy kiss, my own, my dearest ! 

The simple rite is over now. 
And thou the golden symbol wearest 
Of our sweet vow. 

Along the aisle there falls a splendor. 
The bridal kiss of heaven to earth ; 
And organ-music, blithely tender. 
Breathes hallowed mirth. 

So come, with that fine radiance o'er thee. 

Come, floating light on music's wave. 
With love beside and life before thee. 
Joyous and brave ! 

The thronging thoughts I fain would utter. 

Ere I the fitting word can find. 
Like startled birds, arise and flutter 
Adown the wind. 

But thou, my darling, well discernest 

The happy ferment in my breast, — 
The gladness grave, the jest-in-earnest. 
The triumph blest. 
63 



Lovers Way and Other Poems 

The season o'er of foam and riot. 

This torrent of my love shall grow 
A mighty river, deep and quiet 
In ceaseless flow. 

Then come, with splendor streaming o'er thee. 

And listening to the song of life. 
With love beside and bliss before thee. 
My own — my wife ! 



64 



Lovers Way 



XXXV 

Who will may praise the wildwood's peace. 
The odor of the morning meads. 

The sheaf, the haycock, and the fleece. 
Babble of brooks, and rustling reeds. 

But me the city's charms engage. 

The ready smile, the answering eye. 

The stately street, the lively stage. 
The humming hours that swiftly fly. 

But most of all I love the town 
Because in yonder far-seen room 

Sweet Lilian in her simple gown 
Bends like a flower above her loom. 



65 



Loves Way and Other Poems 



XXXVI 

Soon fades the violet, soon the rose. 
And soon the leaves lie sere ; 

But O my love she smiles on me 
Sweetly the livelong year ! 

Her oriel soon the swallow quits. 
The thrush forbears her song ; 

But O my love she decks for me 
Her nest the glad year long ! 



66 



O gathered in a golden hour. 

And more than all thy sisters blest. 
One eve 't is thine to bloom, sweet flower. 
On Lilian's breast ! 

There dream of sapphire nights in June, 

How by a stream the nightingale 
Sings ever, while the Persian moon 
Floats proudly pale. 

O gathered in a happy hour. 

Though never bee thy nectar sip. 
Sweet Lilian to thy cheek, dear flower. 
Shall press her lip. 



67 



Lovers Way and Other Poems 



XXXVIII 



Fair gleam the hills, and fair 

The stippled floods ; 
Spring strews her firstlings everywhere. 
And bathes in misty green the woods. 

Ah me ! *tis ill to stray. 
Lacking my Sweet ! 
But soon she wearies by the way. 
So loath she fares on mortal feet ! 



68 



Love's Way 



XXXIX 

Woods have I sung, and many a gliding stream ; 
Smiles and bright eyes have been my verse' s theme ; 

But evermore of these my lute is fain, — 
Roses, and music, and yon moonlight's gleam. 

Yet, were I blind as old Mseonides, 

Deaf as the grave, and racked with fell disease. 

Come thou but near. Sweet, and I shall not lack 
Moon, and fair flowers, and softest melodies. 

For out of thee a charmed influence goes. 
And sheds a rarer dew upon the rose. 

Lends to sweet music a diviner spell. 
And o'er the wave a lovelier silver throws. 



69 



Loves Way and Other Poems 



In vain her lineaments I trace. 

The flower-like poise, the shapely head. 
The pencilled brov/'s peculiar grace. 

The blossom-blush of softest red ; 
The feathery fronds of crisping hair. 

The peachhke chin, the fairy nose. 
The throat so delicately fair. 

The eyes where all the Loves repose : 

Her loveliness doth still surpass 

Painter's ideal and poet's hymn j 
The sweet reflection in her glass 

Hath charms the artist cannot limn. 
Look, where her pictured image glows ! 

How fair it seems ! ' t is very she ! 
Hither she comes, the perfect rose. 

And shames the feeble travesty. 

Fair is the shrine, but ah, how fair 

The spirit that abides within ! 
Love's masterpiece, pure fire and air. 

Composed all human hearts to win ; 
70 



Love's Way 

So wooingly the artsman wrought. 
So finely touched the tempered foam. 

That Beauty's very soul he caught. 
And fixt it in a mortal home. 

With no divided heart she views 

The friends that in her smile delight ; 
Her eager soul doth quickly choose 

And clasp its own in scorn's despite. 
Toiling for these, her spirit plies 

Its lash upon her fragile frame. 
Till reft of all her strength she lies. 

Pale as the flower that wears her name. 

Her manners have a simple grace. 

The natural garb of love and truth. 
That lends a charm to commonplace. 

And decks the trite with airs of youth ; 
Sincere she is, but all discreet. 

Hinting reproof with such an art. 
Her censure seems a tribute sweet. 

Her silence pierces like a dart. 

In pastime or in toil she hath 

A child's delight, an unspoiled zest. 

Tripping along the thorny path 
As though stern duty were a jest \ 
71 



Lovers Way and Other Poems 

There lives a sunshine in her looks 
That puts the brood of cares to flight. 

And with a sound of singing brooks 
Her happy laughter gushes bright. 

Unsought the love of all she gains : 

At sight of her the infant crows. 
The withered crone forgets her pains. 

The hound puts up a friendly nose. 
For she in her effect is one 

With all of Nature's gender powers, — 
The influence of the setting sun. 

The quickening charm of summer showers. 

If she to all the world be such. 

So winning-sweet, so kindly-wise. 
With me that love her best, how much 

Doth she abound in sympathies ! 
Here cease, my song ; it were not meet 

The heart' s dear secrets to reveal ; 
E'en so the gentian hides her sweet. 

The happy birds their nests conceal. 



72 



Lovers Way 



XLI 

Thy blush is on the brow of the young day ; 

Thy glance the gleaming waters counterfeit ; 
Thy kiss is wafted o'er the mellowing hay. 

And, lo ! thy smile along the waves of wheat 
Of thee the bluebird sings upon the spray. 

Of thee he sings, and all his songs are sweet. 

All gracious deeds of antique chivalry 

Mind me of thee ; some lively touch I find 

In all that moves to noble tears, of thee. 
In all that simple is, or leal, or kind ; 

Music to me thou art, and poesy. 

And aspiration thou, and peace of mind. 



73 



Lovers Way and Other Poems 



Sweet, here it lies, the story of my heart. 

Rudely rehearsed, belying my intent ; 

Love is no courtier, apt in compliment. 
And polishing a phrase with nicest art ; 
Like a poor player mumbling o'er his part. 

He halts and stumbles in his argument ; 

His wistful eyes alone are eloquent. 
Looking the thing his lips would fain impart. 
For Love is of the skies ; our speech to him 

Seems the dull jargon of a barbarous land : 
But on still eves, or in the moonshine dim. 

When soul to soul puts forth a stealing hand. 

Love breathes to love, and love doth understand 
A music wordless as an angel's hymn. 

No orator is Love ; how trivial seems 

The mother's converse with her baby dear. 
How blank of meaning to a stranger's ear. 

Like elvish Latin overheard in dreams : 

Yet fair the feeling that behind it gleams. 
And to the infant's comprehension clear 

As instinct ; listen how in birdlike screams 
He laughs responsive to the voice of cheer ! 
74 



Love's Way 

Love is a hero, modest, valiant, wise. 

In large unconsciousness winning his way ; 

The timid he provokes to bold emprise. 
And gives to womanhood a courage gay : 

Fate he contemns, and cynic Time defies. 
And for a kiss will cast his life away. 



75 



THE VISION OF GALILEO 



THE VISION OF GALILEO 

What noise aroused me then ? No human speech 
It seemed ; no cry of beast or frighted bird. 
No flute's or gittern's note, — nay, 't was the wind 
Fluttering the arras, or perchance the flame 
Licking the frothy sap. The night is chill, 
And for awhile the fever in my veins 
Hath left me : I am old, and surely too 
My time of death is nigh; these eyes, that oft 
Have marked the mighty galleons of the skies 
Gliding in silence, to the pilot's helm 
So true, their courses of a million leagues 
Myself might calculate — these eyes, I say. 
Are sightless now ; a blind old man am I. 
Yet never was the inward faculty 
So clear as now ; methinks I can descry. 
As with an optic tube, the world of dme. 
Both vanished and to come. Thus let me grope 
To yonder window ; fancy there will prove, 
79 



Love's Way and Other Poems 

By memory's aid, more potent to restore 
Vision decayed. Fair to the north, I know. 
Dear Florence lies, her Duomo looming vast 
Amid a sheaf of spires, and Arno's flood 
Wound like a silken zone about her waist. 
The silent world of stars above her floats. 
Breathing of purity and peace, a heaven 
Unfeigned of pope or priest. I too have been 
A soldier of the truth, and peace to me 
Most welcome is and sweet. 

That sound again ! 
What should it bode? Woe's me! 'tis piercing 

chill ! 
My blood flows thicker, and an icy hand 
Gripes at my heart ! My sable mantle — so ! 
And now a cordial — ah ! the genial warmth 
Returns, and courage with his trump and flag 
Drives out the lurking dread ! 

There spake the coward ! 
There Galileo told his infamy ! 
Vainly in words a valiant fight I wage, 
Womanwise, flinging my satiric darts 
That sting but cannot wound ; the testing hour 
That proves the pith and manhood of the soul 
Still sees me craven ; like a puling maid 
80 



The Vision of Galileo 

Frighted with chimney-corner tales, I flinch 
At every sound, a timorous fantasy 
Painting the void v^ith horrors. A mere hint 
Of torture *t was — a harmless thunderbolt 
At random tossed — that pierced my brittle shell 
Of simulated courage, and betrayed 
The crawling soul within. How fair a chance 
Was then forever lost ! the issue plain 
'Twixt old opinion and the living truth. 
Reason the final judge, her Yea or Nay 
Involving many a tangled consequence 
Importing much ! a hero* s part was mine. 
Had but a hero's heart, a hero's faith. 
Unto the high occasion's majesty 
Exalted this dull nature ! what a stroke 
Was mine to deal ! how had I overcome 
The tyrant and the persecutor then. 
Confuting with a nobler element 
The undiscerning flame ! The proverb still 
Carries a double sting : ** To each his own ! '* 
The hero's well-wooed opportunity 
Becomes the craven's pitiful excuse ; 
To each the fortune of an hour extends 
Renown immortal or undying shame. 
The field I lost another shall retrieve, 
6 8i 



Loves Way and Other Poems 

Another shall embrace the destiny 
I slighted, and achieve the deeds I dreamed. 
While in a grave inglorious I repose. 
Bemoaned by gentle hearts in many a sigh 
Ambiguous of compassion or disdain. 
Out on me for a faint-heart ! yet, in sooth, 
'T was a rude ordeal for a sterner soul 
Than our Italia breeds. E'en now, methinks, 
I see around me that malignant band. 
Whose loveless eyes and lips of cruel curve 
Told of a life divorced from human ties. 
Of wifeless and unnatural hearts — how cold. 
How keen and crafty was their silent gaze ! 
Their mocking formula, ** Be merciful 
And shed no drop of blood," resounded harsh 
Upon my fancy' s ear ; I froze with dread. 
Remembering Bruno, for a jesting book 
Doomed to the torturing flames — and then I fell. 
Denying with apostate insolence 
A truth firm-fixed as the sun in heaven ! 
Too late is my remorse ; the door is shut : 
That subtle essence of the human soul 
Which, like the fine aroma of a flower. 
Steals gratefully upon the charmed sense 
Of those that love us, hath in me become 
82 



The Vision of Galileo 

The effluvium of a corse ; corruption lays 
Its leper-mark upon my heart and brain. 
And rightly am I shunned, — a hypocrite 
So shameless, and withal so litde skilled. 
As roundly to deny the plain, true sense 
And palpable intent my teachings bore ! 
Vile perjury, no abjuration 't was. 
And vain as vile ! the dullest-witted friar 
Might smell a subterfuge, did one affirm, 
'* The sum of two and two resembles four. 
And the conclusion squares with every proof; 
But I disown the specious fallacy : " 
E'en such in its effect my plea appeared. 
But when, in St. Maria's ancient fane, 
I rose from kneeling, — damned unspeakably. 
But shriven and reconciled, — across my brain 
Glittered and pealed a thunderbolt of thought — 
Nay, sure I spake it not — "And still it moves ! '* 
Ay, still it moves ! not all the lying oaths 
By caitiffs ta'en and bigotry devised. 
Not all the Popes that ever gathered pence 
In Peter's chair, emptying at one discharge 
Their arsenal of curses, can prevail 
To arrest the march of this revolving orb. 
Or stay the chariot- wheels of conquering Time ! 
83 



Loves Way and Other Poems 

Truth bides her hour ; her triumph is assured ; 
Opinion, like a rude inconstant breeze. 
Ruffles her even surface, and distorts 
The forms her limpid element reflects ; 
But ever to her breast the wave returns. 
That knowledge be my consolation still ! 

Perish, ye vain regrets ! what need is mine 
Of consolation ? venial was the sin. 
If sin it were ; the supple-iingered vine 
Is void of thorns, nor can the osier boast 
The toughness of the storm-defying yew. 
Who can escape the imperious destiny 
Of nature ? who remould in finer clay 
The form and features of the inborn soul ? 
Adjust the horoscope of character 
To fairer issues ? from his blood expel 
The ancestral elements, the human fire ? 
The pygmy shall become a Hercules 
By stress of thought, the swarthy Moor grow fair. 
Ere such endeavor thrive. I mind me now 
There was a prelate once — a countryman 
Of my sweet English poet — who, to save 
A frail and withered life, abjured his creed. 
Shunning the fiery trial — worse fault in him, 
84 



The Vision of Galileo 

Who had not scrupled in his day of power 
To invoke the same fell proof. If such a man — 
A Father of his church, pious and pure — 
Failed at the pinch, my conscience may repose 
Upon a dreamless pillow. They that list 
May crave the martyr's crown ; not mine the glow 
Fanatic, ripening in the brain of fools 
Visions of John the Dreamer's Paradise : 
This genial earth is heaven enow for me. 
Truly the light is sweet, and beautiful 
The blue Italian sky ; dear is the sun. 
The benediction of the morning's kiss. 
The rainbow, and the pleasant thrill of spring. 
The golden aisles of New Jerusalem 
No fairer gleam, than on a summer night 
The starry streets ; no fabled sea of glass 
Outshines imperial Como's hyaline 
Moon-gilded, nor the amethystine flood 
That washes Capri's horns; the woods and rills 
In verdant Vallombrosa murmur soft 
As angels' vespers ; and the Alpine snows 
Match the white raiment of the seraphim. 
Ah ! why did I forsake the Muse of song 
For her of science ? why the charming lute 
Forego, to grasp the compass and the scales ? 
85 



Love's Way and Other Poems 

Unhappy choice ! my genius was equipped 
For art and love, the service and the praise 
Of gracious Beauty ; what had I to do 
With planetary motions, or the swing 
Of Pisa* s massy lamp ? Ah happy hours 
With dear Marina in the cypress walk. 
Or by the fountain of the marble nymph. 
She singing softly with her golden voice 
A madrigal of love, my lute and I 
Making sweet music ! the enchanted birds 
Listening, forgot their carols, and the leaves 
Fluttered from oiF the roses to her lap. 
She with a starry chaplet on her brows 
Of odorous jasmine, Hke a queen appeared 
Of old romance, the arbitress acclaimed 
Of song or tourney, and herself a prize 
For noblest paladins : port, features, all 
Beseemed a lady born. Ay, she was then 
A sumptuous creature ! tresses of the hue 
Beloved of Tidan, bronze with gold agleam. 
All Venice in her mien, and from her eyes 
Blue beams enkindling love ! No marriage bond 
Held us in leash ; the freeborn heart of man 
Mislikes compulsion, and in many a shower 
Scatters its love, liberal as air and sun : 
86 



The Vision of Galileo 

So seeming-boundless is our little world. 
So rich in loveliness, in varied grace 
Of womanhood so lavish, that in sooth 
A single choice were churlish. Yet we clave 
Together, bound by many a tender link 
Of common memories, and I know not what 
Of subtle kinship overswaying birth. 
Year after year ; nor unto us the boon 
Was lacking, though unconsecrate our loves. 
Of children, and the soft unconscious charm 
Of innocence and sweet sincerity 
In baby looks abiding. 

Hark ! ah Heaven ! 
It is the passing-bell, the selfsame note 
That from the convent clanged the abhorred news 
Of my dear daughter' s — nay, beshrew the word ! 
Speak it I cannot, such a swelling fills 
This aged throat : my own, my darling maid. 
Thy father lacks thee, groping still in vain 
For thy sweet presence, and from darkened eyes 
Raining unhappy tears ; how aimless now. 
Desolate and weary is the old man's life ! 
The flattery of thine aiFection fond 
Wooed me to patience, and my fevered ire 
How tenderly allayed ! nigh thee or far, 

87 



Love's Way and Other Poems 

I felt thy spirit's influence, a caress 
Of trusting innocence ; upon the page 
Of love's fair Book of Hours thy letter glows 
In softest hues : *' The other sisters here 
Have each a patron saint, — some holy man 
Whose picture hangs within her cell ; to him 
She tells her joys and griefs. None such I keep ; 
My father dear is counsellor for me." 
Alas ! I am a sinful man, O Lord ! 
Faithless to my true self, and false to thee ! 
The good I knew and willed not, finding still 
In thy forbearance opportunity 
For fresh ofFendings : God, be merciful 
To me a sinner ! Well hath blindness come 
Upon me ; 'tis the symbol and the brand 
Of sin like mine against the living light. 
And for the lusting eye punition meet. 
Vice is its own dread executioner ; 
Within ourselves the Nemesis abides 
We fain would shun ; her poison she doth brew 
From our polluted blood, and on our hearts 
Doth whet her cruel blade. Swoln to a gale. 
The zephyrs of a thousand amorous hours 
Howl me to scorn ; the baby-fingers light 
Of soft Indulgence grasp me by the gorge 
88 



The Vision of Galileo 

In murderous embrace. Degenerate beast. 
Unable as unworthy to defend 
The immortal truth ! give testimony now 
That God is just ! 

A sudden gleam dispels 
The inner darkness ; clear and passing fair 
The vision of the future lies unrolled 
Even to the verge of Time's deputed sway ! 
Lo, it is very good ! from grace to grace 
The mind of man, emerging to the light. 
Grows to its noble prime ; the social moulds 
Wherein our common clay is rudely poured 
Are broken one by one : king, soldier, priest. 
World-rulers of this darkness, long dismissed 
Into the grave of all chimeras, pose 
The delving antiquary. Hate and fear. 
Like robber wolves relentlessly pursued. 
Flee the abodes of men ; the jealousies 
Of nations, tempered to a generous glow 
Of friendly emulation, ply the arts 
Of use and beauty ; childhood, merit, age 
Alone are privileged ; the traveller finds 
In all his wanderings but a single code. 
And jurisdictions that embrace the world 3 
Freedom is king, and brotherhood is law. 



Lovers Way and Other Poems 

Yea, and the simple creatures, *' brute " miscalled. 
Our humbler fellows, the fair boon receive 
Of wardship to the race ; the gentler time 
Knows nought of aliens to the commonweal. 
Fostered with kindlv and judicious care 
For mutual benefit, all creatures own 
The primacy and righteous rule of man. 
Gratefully striving, and with life content. 
Unto the lavish household of the world 
Thrift comes as mistress, with inventive Art 
For handmaid ; the prolific earth supplies 
For all the human breed an ample store. 
By husbandry compelled ; the expedients rude 
Whereby the intervals of time and space 
Were spanned of yore, to fresh devices yield, 
And one by one the blind material walls 
Become transparent as the viewless air. 
In lyric strains alone language endures. 
Spirit with spirit interchanging speech 
Wordlessly eloquent ; the latent powers 
Of Nature, wisely guided or subdued. 
Subserve the needs, lighten the toils of men. 
Or minister to that diviner sense 
Of beauty which is one with poesy. 
Thrilling the tender hearts of man and maid 
90 



The Vision of Galileo 

With gladness, that in artless melodies 
Warbles unconsciously of love's delight. 
No funeral pomp, no panoply of woe. 
No rain of tears vexes the happy dead ; 
From life to life they go, with summer flowers 
Encinctured, and with songs of parting sped : 
Through all the world service is happiness. 
Obedience a blithe instinct ; earnest cheer 
Ennobles trivial toil, and hallowing moods 
Touch with sublimity familiar things. 
Until with childhood's unbeclouded gaze 
Man apprehends a present realm divine ! 

How beautiful upon the mountains gleam 
The twinkling feet, the choral song resounds ! 
Reveal, O lovely vision, the degrees 
Of man's ascent, while with a rapt regard 
I view the worldwide, ever-changing scene. 
Now, now I trace the gradual upward path ! 
The truth it is, the truth shall make us free ! 
Ay, still it moves ! a child, a child is born — 
Yea, in the blessed year that now is young — 
A Galileo, but with fairer hap 
And firmer heart — who of the mighty world 
Unveils the workings, the pulsations marks 
91 



Lovers Way and Other Poems 

Of rhythmic order infinite, sublime ; 
Nor he alone, — a glorious company 
Of Truth's apostles, each from hand to hand 
Passing the torch, protect and multiply 
The far-illuming rays, to every age 
Revealing forces and relations new. 
And slaying with a shaft of light serene 
Some cockatrice of superstition's brood. 
Still, still it moves ! the universal reign 
Of sequent order, the unaltering laws 
Of being and of action, so divulged 
And preached with Nature for a witness, thrust 
The fear-begotten idol from his throne 
That now usurps the majesty of heaven. 
The perfect beauty, but in part revealed. 
Shames with a mild harmonious loveliness 
The dizened form, the meretricious bloom 
And simpering sleekness of the types impure 
By undiscerning adoration feigned. 
To fair Philosophy the grace was given, — 
Unheeding the vain babblings and assaults 
Of that fell science of sonorous name 
Falsely so called, and out of ignorance blown. 
Whose doctors, bisson leaders of the blind. 
Persuade with tongues of fire, keen to devour 
92 



The Vision of Galileo 

Critic with rival, — to the reasoned art 
Whose minister am I, the honor fell 
To overthrow the unrighteous tyranny 
Of hoar tradition, and the human dross 
First to dissever from the ore divine 
Of oracles revered, and fables old. 
And still it moves ! with Science hand in hand 
Goes gentle Faith, her shining eyes unveiled. 
Seeking the causes, tracing to the source 
Each fact of nature, testing every throb 
Of primal instinct — fearless of the new. 
Since truth is ever one, a crystal globe 
Complete and fractureless — like Science bold. 
Yet with a touch more reverent, and a sense 
To subtler harmonies alive, and thrilled 
By footfalls of mysterious presences 
In solitary hours, — till, with a heart 
Leaping ecstatic, she divines and shares 
The illuminant and all-informing thought 
Whereof the world is the embodied word 
And visible symbol. 

Paths for plodding souls. 
Wings for the free ! the universal truth 
Lies round us and above, an airy sea 
Pervious to spirit-pinions, to respire 
92, 



Love's Way and Other Poems 

Pure and delicious as the rock-fed spring. 
Come to the waters, ho ! ye thirsty ones ! 
Drink freely and rejoice ! merge in the whole 
Your single selves, each from the living source 
New life receiving ! Deeper than ye deem 
Your nature hath its roots ; within you lies 
The mystic realm of God, the garden fair 
Where in the silence of unvexed eve 
His footsteps come and go, vague music making 
As of the forest or the breathing sea. 
Put oiF the shoe, the robe of self lay by. 
For here is holy ground ; here unto you 
The Eternal speaks, in spirit-moving tones 
Tenderly solemn, winning from within 
A sweet response ; the dew of loving tears 
Arises, and of prayer the fragrance pure. 
And o'er the waters of emotion's deep 
Steals with a happy hush the peace divine. 
Heed, ever heed, O brother yet unborn. 
The light that is within, the deathless word ! 
Not on Samaria's nor on Zion's hill 
Do thou the all-embracing soul adore. 
But in thy spirit's Bethel, wide and lone. 
For there the weary pilgrim. Faith, receives 
A tranquil certitude, with glory tinged, 
94 



The Vision of Galileo 

Of something worthy of her sacred awe. 
An everlasting Right ; thy God and thou. 
The Real with the Real face to face. 
No mediator, no hierophant. 
No prophet need : the spirit is the truth : 
** The word is nigh thee, in thy mouth and heart." 
Far from the crowded fane thy footsteps be. 
Where, at a season set, the priest repeats 
His well-remembered part ; how seldom there — 
Though with a studied eloquence invoked. 
And hymned with many a mellow-toned Amen — 
The wind, that bloweth where it listeth, comes 
The sleeping life to quicken ! Unrehearsed 
The welcome of the heavenly Friend should be. 
Sincere and fresh, as when in virgin hearts 
The flame of happy love spontaneous leaps. 
And soft unuttered music ushers in 
Of each to each the rapturous approach. 
Honor the wise, revere the living voice 
From old religions calling ; not in vain 
Great sages, and the goodly fellowship 
Of prophets labored, nor the saints obscure 
Who, like the noteless dwellers of the deep. 
Dying, have reared an island of delight 
Amid the infinite of Ocean's round : 
95 



Loves Way and Other Poems 

Yet in thy heart an oracle abides, 

A harp that vibrates to the breath of God, 

Whose lightest whisper is a law for thee. 

Though saint and prophet in sublime appeal 

Should cry, " Lo here ! the kingdom is at hand ! 

To universal nature still we bring 

The masterwork of art, with our own eyes — 

Not with a false and borrowed faculty — 

Comparing, judging of the true and fair ; 

Not otherwise the spiritual sense 

Bears witness of the good, for every man 

According to his gift. 

Arise and shine ! 
The light, the light is come ! to gloom ensues 
The cold uncertain lustre of the moon. 
Morn with her veiling vapors follows fast. 
And last the full, the glowing loveliness 
Of Day in all her glory ! Man unfolds 
The shining pinions of a type mature. 
Leaving the worm behind ; sweet sympathy 
For all that lives, a kinship of the heart 
Declared in kindly deeds innumerable. 
And melting, like the ice of summer seas. 
All fleshly barriers of the Me and Thee, 
Utters for him the Fiat Lux anew. 

96 



The Vision of Galileo 

No more the sense of man's infirmity- 
Oppresses the free spirit : shame and sin 
He feels not, nor perceives ; the passions all 
To impotence have shrunken, save alone 
The exquisite and palpitating joy 
That thrills him, as in harmony with life 
He plies his fiinction, and the bliss fulfils 
Of him whose nature in perfection works 
To perfect ends, a pure and conscious flower. 

The vision pales, and my perceptive mind. 
Oppressed with growing splendor, waxes faint. 
And age her chilling lethargy renews. 
Again, again that phantom sound I hear. 
But not with dread ; I know thee now, O Death, 
Dear angel of deliverance, who in ruth 
My soul dost waken from her mortal sleep ! 
My little task, wherein I wrought so ill. 
Is all accomplished ; Spirit of holy Truth, 
Now lettest thou thy servant part in peace ! 

May^ 1897. 



97 



HERACLES UPON (ETA 



HERACLES UPON CETA 

Silence upon the mountain's head forlorn 
Clung like a shroud ; no breeze the poplar's plumes 
Ruffled, and as in bronze the russet oak 
Stood carven stiff; the river, through the vale 
Gliding circuitous, a sickle seemed 
With flashing blade intolerably bright ; 
High up, a w^hite and solitary cloud 
Hung like an eagle poised. On the tall elm 
The turtle hushed her moan ; the stilted crane 
Drov^sed at his post the livelong afternoon ; 
And priestlike on his crag the ibex knelt. 
It was the hour of utmost heat, that brings 
A stealing torpor, grateful to the sense. 
In which the self is lost, and form and mind. 
Fancies and memories, present and remote. 
In sweet confusion mingle undiscerned. 

Midway the mountain-side a shaft of rock 
Soared like the tomb of some forgotten king, -— 
Titan, or Demigod, or Cyclops huge, — 



Love's Way and Other Poems 

And flung a span of shade. There, on a mound 
Of thymy turf, fit floor for Dryads* dance. 
And strewn with saifron like a bridal bed, 
A funeral pile, couch unbeloved of men. 
Brooded, and ever from its crest there came 
A cry that smote the heavens : 

" I burn, I burn ! 
Ay me, I burn ! a black and bitter spume 
Sullies my lips, and with a briny sweat 
My bosom reeks ; a leprous tetter trails 
Its fibres o'er me like a poisonous vine ; 
And ever at mine ears a rending cry 
Rings hideously, as when I heard afar 
The man-fed mares of Thracian Diomed 
With shrieks devouring their unnatural meat ! 
Hear me, ye gods, and give me of your showers 
That smite the fruitless furrows of the sea 
To drink one mighty draught ! I burn, I burn ! 

" This is a woman's work ; a woman's hand 
Hath wrought this wreck upon me, such as ne'er 
Monster infuriate, nor giant armed 
Could compass in the fray ; but who of men 
Can 'scape the meshes of a woman's web. 
Or loose her slimy coils ? Gods ! it is foul 

102 



Heracles upon (Eta 

That mine own wife, the partner of my bed. 
My children's mother and my best-beloved. 
Should with soft speeches and dissembled gifts 
Betray me to my death ! and for what cause ? 
For none, I swear it ! but her sordid soul. 
Jealous of every slave, in each new face 
Fearing a rival, — or, it well may chance. 
Craving with fickle and unhallowed fire 
Some sleeker love, some darling of the maids, — 
Wins thus its noisome vent ; but would to God 
That I might pinch the apple in her throat 
And help her to a couch beside yon slave 
Who nevermore shall spread her cursed lures ! 
How like an egg the villain's brain-pan brast ! 
So sharp and swift the unsleeping Fury smites ! 

*'Why am I hunted thus from clime to clime. 
Doomed like a slave to tasks of thankless toil. 
Yet grudged the very roof that every slave 
Shares with his lord ? How sweet it were, methinks. 
To dwell a herdsman under eaves of straw, 
Olives and bread my fare, my only lore 
The homely science of the flail and forge ? 
Some nut-brown girl of Argos or of Thebes 
Should bear me babes, whom at the first faint star 
103 



Love's Way and Other Poems 

She to the fold with nightly song might bring 
Tottering to meet and kiss and lead me home. 
More proud than victor after foughten field. 
So sweet it were ! but not by any stream 
Bosomed in sedges, blithe with chirp and hum. 
Stands any home for me ; for if by chance 
I choose a field and water with my sweat 
Its furrows for the harvest, lo, the voice 
Of Hera hissing through my dreams, ' Begone ! ' 
So o'er the world I wander, seeking peace 
In vain, in vain ! and labors like a god's 
Are thrust upon me, tasks without a term. 
Without a wage ; and every child of mine — 
Ay, all the rosy prattlers, one by one — 
These hands, ah wretched me ! a ruthless fate 
Dooms, woe the day ! to butcher and to rend 
In that blind fury and insensate rage 
Wherewith the hatred of the Queen of heaven 
Afflicts me ; fie that ever I was born ! 
This 't is to be the bastard of a god. 
The unhappy seed of an adulterous sire 
Who sits above the thunder, and defies 
The retribution that himself ordains ! 
He lechers, and the vengeance lights on me ; 
The Furies fawn upon him, and the Fates 
104 



Heracles upon (Eta 

His courtiers are ; great Nemesis herself 
Holds out her hand obsequious for her hire 
And smiles upon his crimes ; his wrong is right : 
I, I must suffer ! I must bear the blame ! 
'T is I am ever scourged, he goes unscathed ! 
He laughs that I may weep ! 

** Now, by the Styx, 
I will not howl alone ! You throned gods. 
To whom the world is but a spinning top 
Ye love to lash, and groans of mortal men 
Rare sport for vacant hours, — look to yourselves ! 
I come among your banquets breathing doom ! 
I that have launched mine arrows at the sun 
And weighed the world ; I that have pierced a path 
Into the bowels of hell, and dragged to day 
The monster of the pit, with both his tongues 
Lolled like a lapdog's, and his blood-balled eyes 
Blinking for fear, — ay, mangled as I am. 
Flayed to the ribs, foul as a rotten fig. 
Shedding my joints as doth a crab her claws. 
And spent with groaning, — I will scale your walls 
And storm your starry heights, and hurl you prone 
Down to the Phlegethonian waves, to sink 
Forever, clogged with curses of mankind ! 
Have at you, then ! — I burn, I burn, I burn ! 
105 



Loves Way and Other Poems 

"O fairest vale of all the sun beholds. 
That 'twixt the paps of thine empurpled hills 
Blushest with myriad roses like a maid ! 
Maidens thy guardians are, and unprofaned 
Thy streams, fit mirrors of the unwedded moon 
That fills yon cypress with a heart of fire. 
Fain would I leave thee virgin, fain beguile 
With gilded apples counterfeit of thine 
The Argive lord ; in vain ! yet would that here. 
Far from a most unnatural fatherland. 
Forever in thine arms I might abide ! 
Here all things nod and sleep ; hither no foot 
Comes red with war, nor aught of outland life 
Save bees in quest of bloom, or birds astray ; 
Here let me snatch, kind gods, a brief repose. 
Pleased with the ghosts of old familiar griefs. 
Like one that sleeps upon a summer shore. 
Soothed by the murmur of the selfsame sea 
That hurled him like a wrestler where he lies ! 

*' Will ye not, friends and kinsmen, who behold 
My piteous plight, and hear these hollow groans. 
Give o'er your weeping, and with pious hands 
Prepare the flames for this my funeral pile 
Whereon I tarry for the coming death ? 
1 06 



Heracles upon (Eta 

What fear ye ? Think ye 'tis a crime I ask? 

Ye will but hasten by a few brief hours 

The inevitable stroke that hangs in air. 

As on a spider's thread the drops of dew 

Poise ere they fall ; and so this livelong pain 

Shall be assuaged, and with my dying breath 

I shall commend your virtue to the gods. 

Will ye deny me this, ye pickthank slaves ? 

Curs that have licked my trenchers, and have shared 

My fireside and my straw ? Go, get you gone 

Ere I can snatch in hand my cudgel here 

And leap among you, as the spotted pard 

Leaps from his coign upon the drinking deer ! 

Hence with a murrain while your skins are sound. 

And prove the mettle of your heels anew ! 

" They are all gone, and twilight from the vale 
Steals upward ; here and there an issuing star 
Peers coldly down upon my loneliness ; 
Moaning, the wind awakes ; the belted bee 
Spreads homeward wings. Ay me ! how many a time. 
When the long labors of the day were done. 
These wonted sights and seasonable sounds 
Had power to soothe me, as a mother soothes 
With simple tales a hundred times retold 
107 



Lovers Way and Other Poems 

Her fretful child ; but slumber so to me 

Returns no more ; I lack the lullabies 

Of comfortable Death, and round my couch 

His drowsy wings. What is my fault, O Death, 

That thou dost grudge to these o'erlabored limbs 

The meed of sleep, which lightly thou dost give 

To nurslings of an hour ? Dost thou not hear ? 

Nay, I will call thee till the brazen stars 

Clash like the cymbals of a startled camp 

That hears upon its walls the midnight foe : 

O Death, Death, Death ! O thou the thrice-implored, 

Death that smoothest every mortal brow. 

Hast thou with Echo changed thy name and form. 

And liest kissing of thy lover's leaves 

By murmuring waters ? Art thou frighted, fool ? 

1 see thee where thou skulkest in the grove ! 
Come forth, or I will drag thee by the heels. 
And clap an ass's nowl upon thy sconce 

For choughs to gape on ! Nay ! 't was but the vine 
Flashing his armor to the rising moon. 
O wandering waves that wash a thousand shores, 
O mountain pines, that ever to the breeze 
Fling like the Furies your dishevelled locks, 
O wind, that seekest over moss and moor 
With many a starward whine thy master slain ! 
io8 



Heracles upon (Eta 

Saw ye not Death among the household gods 

By any hearth, or where he broods obscene 

With vultures o'er the battle ? Doth he dance 

Among the marish-flags, a mocking fire. 

Or sings he toothless to the snouted sharks, 

A hoarse Arion with a lyre of lead ? 

Heaven send the old man safe ! O Mother Earth, 

Sweet motherling, behold me how I burn. 

And hush me to thy cool and fragrant breast. 

That I may sleep a litde ! Out, alas ! 

I may not call thee mother ! child of thine 

I was not born ; I of celestial stock 

A wild shoot am, though like a common weed 

They bear me to the dunghill. Woe is me ! 

Earth casts me at Heaven's door, Heaven spurns me forth, 

And Hell will none of me ! disowned alike 

Of gods and men and shades, 'twixt groan and groan 

Cursing by turns the mocking smile of day. 

The night's long scowl, — denied or life or death, — 

I wait the issue, like a mote that whirls 

'Twixt ebb and flow upon a circling wave ! 

*' Ay, this is Arcady ; these dales and downs. 
With mint and cytisus and saffron sweet. 
Have known my footsteps in a happier time, 
109 



Lovers Way and Other Poems 

Ere fame and shame had found me. O'er yon crags 

Waves the white birch that served me for a mark 

When to the fringe of old Cyllene's beard 

I chased the golden stag. On this same sv^^ard 

We held our heyday revels ; nymph and faun 

Footed it here, and here at harvest home 

I bussed the buxom lasses one and all. 

What time the satyrs at their cups of mead 

Cast burrs upon my beard. In yonder pool 

Star-sitting like a lily of the lake, 

I saw the blue-eyed nymph, mine earliest love. 

Crowned all with rushes ; here we plighted faith ; 

Here met we nightly, while the mimic moon 

Sailed like a swan across the sparkling pool. 

Making thereof a heaven ; about our feet 

Acanthus crept, and ringed with rushy blades 

Myrtle with oleander whispered low 

Till morning bloomed, and Daphnis on the hills 

Piped to his ewes — methinks I hear him now ! 

Ay, 't is the same old strain, which many a time 

He proudly puffed at wedding or at wake ! — 

Tush, I '11 not weep ! What, Daphnis, mine old 

friend ! 
Daphnis, what ho ! — Ah, gods, it was a dream ! 



no 



Heracles upon (Eta 

*« Ho, shepherd, shepherd, hush thy pipes awhile. 
And let thy she-goats range ! know'st thou not me ? 
I am that Heracles whose famous deeds 
Thine (Etan woods have heard ; to such a pass 
A woman's anger and a fate fulfilled 
Have brought me ; but do thou, O kindly swain. 
Kindle the fire beneath me, and consume 
Me and mine agonies ! my folk and kin 
Have left me thus, and fled ; thou therefore, fi-iend, — 
If that all shepherds have not hearts of stone ; 
Nor learn among the ewes to hate their kind, — 
Have pity on me and my mortal pain ! 
Lo, I a hero, I a son of Zeus, 
I sue to thee ; nor shalt thou lack the praise 
Of lands that lie remote, and after years. 
Nor guerdon of the gods for pious deeds. 

" Well hast thou done, O shepherd ! thee the 
thanks 
Of one about to die shall all thy days 
Haunt like a favoring bird. Now go thy way ! 
I am for Hades and its triple moat 
Of stagnant streams, and languid flowerless meads. 
Gray ghosts and sunless hours. 



Lovers Way and Other Poems 

"How sweet and cool 

Seem these mere mortal flames that gird me round. 

To those envenomed fires I felt but now ! 

Why, this is Lydian luxury ! never yet 

Did Persian loom for Omphale's attire 

Prepare so soft a robe ! 

*' Night falls apace ; 

'T is very dark — I cannot see a star ; 

Hark ! what a shriek was that among the pines ! 

I am afraid ! Gods ! how the mountain rocks ! 

As 'twere a skiff that o'er the Pontic waves 

Fierce Auster hunts ! What prodigy is here ? 

Play me not false, O eyes about to close ! 

Yon shine is not the sun's ! 

" Father ! 't is thou ! 

I hear, I hear thy thunder on the peaks ! 

And with a burst of light and sound arrive 

Thronging perceptions, memories manifold, 

A consciousness of power and quenchless life, 

A faculty sublime, transcending all 

That men call knowledge — I too have attained ! 

I, I too am a god ! " 

And far at sea 

The steersman marvelled at a new-found star. 

September^ 1878. 
Revised, 1881. 



MOODS AND PHASES 



NOCTURNE 

Lovely and pure is the night ! 
Slenderly curving, the moon. 
Crescent, a tiny craft 
On a shoreless ocean astray. 
Pointing an ivory prow 
At the pharos of yon bright star. 
Glides like a beautiful bird 
Over the blue serene. 
The sleeping river below 
Is touched with the calm of the skies. 
And over its bosom the moon 
Flings with a tremulous hand 
A scarf of silvery gauze 
Fine as the veil of a fay. 
Sparsely scattered, the lights 
From ships adrift or at rest 
Gleam with a ruby ray ; 
The creek in its basin lies 
Tarnlike, laving with smooth, 
"5 



Lovers Way and Other Poems 

Hazel waters, the base 

Of the hill, that bathes its dome 

In the delicate glow of the sky. 

Beyond the river, the cliffs 

In a crested rank superb 

Stretch like the walls of the world ; 

And, ah ! the enchanted gloom 

Of the deep-stoled, mystical trees. 

Rising in restful mass 

Athwart the splendors of heaven, 

And softly, fragrantly stirred 

By the blossoming season's breath! 

Ah, how fair is the world ! 
The cup of my bHss runs o'er. 
And every pore of my frame 
Is pierced with the charm of the night ! 
A sigh that is half a sob 
From a swelling heart I send. 
And a mingled mood is mine, 
I or the wine of the rarest joy 
Is made of the water of tears. 
But soon the throe subsides. 
And a new-born love appears. 
And opens her yearning arms 
ii6 



Nocturne 

To the sorrowful children of earth 

(As the sky in its tender embrace 

Enfolds the slumbering world). 

Lifting, expanding my soul. 

Until in her starward flight 

She knocks at the portals of pearl. 

Pleads for the franchise of heaven. 

Claiming a sisterhood sweet 

With the angels that see the Lord, 

In right of the noble joy 

Wherewith she is hallowed and crowned. 

Ay, for heaven is a state. 
And these fair bodies of ours. 
Framed in the likeness of God, 
Vessels meet may become 
For motes of the glory divine. 
Heaven, the heaven of our dreams. 
Scarce were fairer, methinks. 
Than many an Eden that blooms 
Here on the earth we despise. 
The music of hearts, not harps. 
And the praise that is utter delight. 
These are the jubilant strains. 
These are the incense of heaven ; 
117 



Lovers Way and Other Poems 

And the secret that seraphs know. 
The fountain of rapture pure. 
Is to see with the eyes that beheld 
The beauty of Earth new-born. 
To hear with the ears that rejoiced 
In the psalm of the morning stars 
That watched by the cradle of Time, 
Finding a harmony true 
In the very discords of life. 
As the myriad chorus moves. 
Marshalled in order sublime. 
With a rhythmical ebb and flow 
To its close in the perfect chord 
Struck by the fingers of God ; 
To know as the happy birds 
By an instinct sure and high. 
To feel with the heart of a child 
By the sweet divination of love 
(Laying a trustful head 
On the tender bosom of God), 
That joy, that joy is our part ! 
Joy that speaks in the gleam 
Of the infinite laughter of heaven, 
Joy that leaps in the veins 
Of earth in her deathless prime, 
ii8 



Nocturne 

Joy in the pulse of the seas, 
Joy in the dance of the stars, — 
Joy is our being's end. 
Whereto, as the bee to the bloom. 
We tend with an impulse true. 

Fade not, beautiful dream ! 
Cease not, poem of God ! 
Deeply, O deeply sink 
Into my heart and life ! 
And you, ye lyric airs 
From viewless heights that blow. 
Making the world one harp 
With tender gladness athrill. 
Attune my being to yours ! 
Give me the secret sweet 
Of your ineffable joy ! 
Dear one, listen awhile 
With the finer sense of the soul. 
The perfect organ of love ! 
Hearest thou, hearest thou not 
The music, the music of heaven 
Swell from this bosom to thine. 
Breathing an exquisite bliss. 
Sighing an infinite hope, 
119 



Lovers Way and Other Poems 

And merging in one clear strain 
Feeling, perception, thought. 
As the bloom and the fragrance blend 
In the silent speech of the rose ? 
Ah, how fair is the world ! 

SPUYTEN DUYVIL, 

May, 1890. 



VESPER SIGHS 

Over the western wave. 

Nigh to his harbor, the sun 

Furrows a fiery wake ; 

And my heart, my heart is pierced 

With the pang of a hopeless desire. 

For I too, I would be gone 

Over the wilds of the sea 

To where, with her pale soft skies, 

England, the green-robed nymph. 

Rises from out the foam, — 

England, that strews my verse 

With lingering odors and hues 

From her unforgotten fields. 

Though with as wild a grace 

The flowers of an alien clime 

Woo me, nor woo me in vain. 

And I dream of my childhood's home 

The cot with its gables three 

Muffled from peak to base 

In a rippling mantle of green. 



Loves Way and Other Poems 

And the garden, so quaint and small. 

Where, fenced with a rampart of box. 

Rustled a sisterhood prim. 

Moss-rose, pansy, and pink, 

Sweetwilliam and larkspur and stock. 

Perking and fluttering proud 

At the buss of the fumbling bee. 

Brisk from his barrack of straw. 

And the lilac bower I see. 

Where under a fragrant roof 

To pleasure our city guests 

A rustic revel we made 

With honey and clouted cream 

Fit for a feast of the gods. 

Yonder, a rounded cone. 

Rises the sacred hill. 

Witness in olden days 

Of many a barbarous rite. 

Now a benignant form 

Loved of the bird and the bee. 

Its ample bosom ablaze 

With furze and "midsummer-men,** 

And girt with a forest of pines ; 

Beneath it the Goblin Combe 

Stretches, an aisle of green, 



Vesper Sighs 

Sweet with its legend of love. 
And many a far-oiF scene 
Dear to my boyish heart — 
Dingle and rivulet cool. 
Cottage and castle and mill. 
Forest and sounding sea — 
Glows with the tender dnts 
Of Memory's pencil fond. 
Loveliest of limners all. 
Friendly faces, and forms 
Of loyal companions old. 
And many a vanished hour 
That with iridescent bloom 
Glittered its tiny course. 
She summons from out of the past. 
Fairest ever and first 
My gentle cousin appears. 
The star of my boyhood' s dream ; 
Raven-haired, and her eyes 
Deeply, pensively blue 
With the tint of the twilight heavens, 
Dead, poor child ! for the news 
Came with the meanings of March ; 
Dead ! and I never took 
From her lips a farewell kiss, 
123 



Lovers Way and Other Poems 

Quitting my native land. 
Nay, not mine was the fault ; 
But she wept, they told me — and now 
I shall kiss her nevermore ! 
Ay, and the comfort poor 
To me is forever denied 
Of musing beside the grave 
Where nigh to the river she sleeps 
In the beautiful city of tombs. 
Now in its loveliest garb 
With the lilac all in bloom. 
Laburnum and rosy may. 
And the chestnuts tier on tier 
Towering, pagodas of pearl 
With chrysolite belted and crowned. 
Well for her that she sleeps. 
Free from the cumber and care 
Of this blind and besotted world. 
That barters a birthright of bliss. 
Spending its labor in vain 
For the things that are not bread. 
Gathering its apples of dust. 
Buying its bawbles with blood. 
And quenching the spirit's ray 
With the icy fingers of greed, 
124 



Vesper Sighs 

Until we are fain to write 

On the cross that fashion rears 

Over the buried corse : 

** Here lieth the body ; the soul 

Long since to its dust returned ; 

But the body, the body is here ! '* 

Ay me ! I am weary to-night ! 

See ! on the pale, pure sky 
Lingers a smoothed flush. 
Rose and primrose and peach 
Tenderly blending in turn 
With the native azure of heaven ; 
And the first faint flower of the night 
Opens a golden eye 
On the tired world below. 
There ' s a charm in such an hour 
Like the charm of a perfect smile ; 
And over my soul a hush 
Steals, as of one that hears 
From the harp of a seraph, " Peace ! ' ' 
In far-off sweetness fall. 
Nature with various voice 
Sighs to the spirit or sings. 
But herself is ever the same. 
125 



Lovers Way and Other Poems 

She with a prying zeal 
Ne'er vexes the fevered heart. 
Proffering this potion or that ; 
But for every mood of the soul 
The same large quiet is hers. 
The gravity sweet and serene. 
The nameless, infinite grace. 
She for her province rules 
The land of silence and shade 
That touches on either hand 
The ploughlands and plains of the mind 
And the heart's wild mountain home. 
Whoso is fain to explore 
Those trackless regions dim. 
Hath glimpses and gleams remote 
And a fleeting murmur finds 
Of something that still eludes 
The hempen meshes of speech : 
Fine suggestions, and faint 
Fugitive whispers he gleans 
Of a world beyond his ken : 
Ay, and he deems that he hears 
On the shores of the ocean of time 
The trailing garments of God, 
The lone, the inscrutable one, 
126 



Vesper Sighs 

Whom with a groping hand 

Grossly and ill we trace. 

Mocking with idols of clay 

Monstrous, rigid, rude. 

The fluid, the luminous force 

That with flow unceasing pours 

Thro' the veins of the boundless world. 

So, at the coming sweet 
Of Silence and holy Night, 
Fresh from the heavens a dew 
Into my soul descends. 
And soft at the homeward hour 
Patience and lovely Peace 
Wing to their windows again. 
Nature with various voice 
Sighs to the spirit or sings. 
And the just and the unjust both 
May hearken the hymn of her seas. 
Or bathe in the calm of her stars. 
So to the heedless world 
My " Pax Vobiscum ' ' I give ; 
And out of the deepening dusk 
Around me a murmur breathes, 
" And with thy spirit. Peace." 



127 



MEMENTO MORI 

Gardener, that through the vineyard of the world 
Glidest with silent footfall, pruning oft 
Blossom, or bough decayed, or fruit mature ; 
Lyrist, who o'er the trembling hearts of men 
Hast holy power, with Love and Pity still 
According ; pious Death, I sing of thee. 

A tender touch is thine, benignant sprite ! 

Thou over mouldering arch and ruin bare 

Trailest a delicate broidery, leaf and vine. 

And with soft snows upon a faded brow 

Dost veil the paths that creeping cares have traced ; 

For Death and Birth go ever hand in hand. 

Forgive our foolish fantasies, that make 

The loathed skull, the hour-glass, and the scythe 

Symbols of thee, sweet Maid ! who still dost go 

With eyes o'erflowing, and a showery smile 

As of a weaning mother pitiful. 

Thy salutary stroke in love to deal. 



Memento Mori 

Thou art the spirit of undying youth ! 
Thou the boon elements dost blend afresh 
In forms of riper beauty, varying still 
The typal mould ; the universe to thee 
Is workshop, and the sun thy pencil dyes ; 
Thee the glad seasons in their order serve. 

Thou slayest but to save ; thou treasurest v^ell 
Each leaf that falls, each dew-drop that exhales ; 
Thy vats the vintage of the world contain. 
And every clime a glov/ing harvest yields 
To brim with vital juice the generous cup 
That universal nature drinks of thee. 

^Memento Mori ! 'tis the sage's cry. 
And round the dial the solemn legend runs. 
Remember thee } ay, as the maiden's heart 
Her lover's tryst remembers ! nor do thou 
Forget thy votary, but with voice and lute 
Sing to me soon thy pleasant lullaby ! 

Sing Peace beside her cradle musing sweet. 

And Kindness in the room of Avarice king ; 

Sing Superstition's knell and Faith's return. 

And whatso else of bright the daedal years 

Weave for the garment of a happier time 

Do thou in comfortable strains rehearse. 
9 129 



Love's Way and Other Poems 

Then bid me follow, and I shall not flinch ; 
Take me, O plastic spirit, bid me wear 
What form thou deemest fit ; I shall not fear. 
Sweet Nurse and Healer, to reclothe my soul 
In such a robe as thy beloved hands 
Bring to the slumberer at break of day. 

1889. 



130 



"DIANA'S BATH'' 
(^Kittatinny Mountains') 

Here is a spot for meditation fit. 
For meditation high, or pensive song ; 
And gracious is the hour. 'T were good to rest 
Here in the shadow of the flickering leaves. 
Whose airy fretwork tenderly enroofs 
This temple of tall trees, this pillared apse 
Wherethrough the merry sunshine here and there 
Steals as it were on tiptoe, half afraid. 
Yet flinging smiles ; the silver-stepping brook 
Runs dancing down its velvet-manded stair 
To leap the petty precipice beyond. 
Forever babbling a brief, simple chime. 
That with an iterant melody doth mock 
The ballad-maker's art. How fine a net 
The creases of the wimpling water weave 
To catch the sunbeams ! look, how large a shade 
The water-spider casts ! a leaf it seems, 
Clovern of shape, and lightly touched with gold. 
131 



Lovers Way and Other Poems 

The bowlders that enclose this mimic pool 
Are smoothed as by the mason ; 'tis a spot 
Well named by fancy ; ay, in such a bath 
Fair Dian might have laved her slender form 
What time the hunter viewed with eyes profane 
The virgin purity revered of heaven. 
Him she transformed and slew ; but we, more blind 
Than Balaam's ass, in habit's visor barred. 
Were all the mountain-side alive with nymphs. 
We should not spy them ; great Apollo's self 
Might play the shepherd for Admetus now 
With no disguise but his divinity. 
Nor e'er be noted. Heaven lies far away. 
And Earth is all dishallowed ; the lone mount 
No oracle affords ; the solemn sea 
With all its voices calls to us in vain ; 
Nor from the wilderness comes any cry 
Prophetic, save of birds that shun the storm. 
Nay, let the saints their shining aureoles wear. 
Martyrs their palms, angels their lily plumes. 
Or how shall we discern them ? What new sense 
Need we to know such presences benign ? 
Ah, 't is the false ideal obscures the true ! 
The self-imprisoned soul, to gloom inured. 
Shrinks dazzled from the sunlight's purity. 
132 



" Diana's Bath " 

The simple peasant girl I marked of late. 

Whose eyes were like the heart of some blue flower 

Darkling beneath its raven petals' fringe. 

In some fair Grecian rite had fitly worn 

Diana's robe and quiver ; but, O fie ! 

How coarse her accent ! how uncouth her mien ! 

Sweetness and innocence and candor, such 

Mere vulgar virtues, graces of the child. 

What note of deity do these reveal ? 

Nature 's a rudimentary phase, no more. 

And artlessness is but imperfect art. 

Blind, blind, alas, and ignorantly blind ! 
There 's a divinity in common things 
That still escapes us : out of childhood's eyes 
The angel gazes, and the wild bird's nest 
Hath something holy ; saints might emulate 
The virtues of a dog. Ay, dust we are. 
And unto dust we cleave ; our sordid lives. 
Our pedant pride, our itching vanity. 
And all the viler instincts we indulge. 
Have marred the delicate spiritual sense 
That we were born with, — deprivation sad ! 
No more in ours the hand of Nature steals 
In childly wise ; the peace that haunts the stars 
133 



Lovers Way and Other Poems 

Our turbid bosoms can reflect no more ; 

The multitudinous voices eloquent 

That come we know not whence — from deeps 

without 
Calling to deeps within — unnoted swell ; 
And all the beauty of the visible world 
Seems to our eyes an undeciphered scroll. 
Nor less to homely graces are we blind 
That lie about our path ; simplicity 
Delights us not ; we roam a hundred leagues 
To scale a mountain-top, despising still 
The mallows in the moor we cross at morn, 
A feast of color for the painter's eye. 
Ay, and the beautiful suffices not 
Our critic souls : we crave the picturesque ; 
Mortal ourselves, we seek a fleeting charm 
In all that 's fair ; some trick of light and shade. 
Some touch of art-theatric there must be 
To win our smiles ; poor misers, hungering still. 
Fastidious in a self-made penury ! 

Sweet Mother Nature, lead us back to thee ! 
Teach us to take delight in simple things. 
And wean us from our follies ; bid us know. 
The happy laughter of a harmless child 
134 



" Diana's Bath " 

Is worth a hero's winning ; bid us mark. 
Hard by, the clear-cut shadow of the pine. 
Fine as a fern's — the fern's own plumy shade. 
That mocks the pine's — or yonder tiniest flower. 
In blue and gold more delicately dight 
Than Cleopatra in her Cydnian barge. 
Here, in the narrow compass of a rood. 
Lives more of beauty than on palace walls ; 
The rhododendron and the hemlock sleep 
Above their mirrored semblances ; the rock 
Shines nacreous thro' the leaping wave ; the moss 
Weaves all around its living tapestry ; 
Nor lack we minstrelsy, — the brook's refrain 
Mingled with sigh of breeze and song of bird. 
The sweet dishevelment of woods and meads 
Bewitches more than art ; O, thus to hear 
The stirrings light, the inarticulate calls 
That wake unutterable thoughts, — to mark 
The piety of Nature, the repose. 
The trusting joy, the patience infinite, — 
How good it were for our unquiet souls ! 
But, all unconscious of our heritage. 
We find but what we bring ; yon simpering maid 
Sweeps my poor floweret with a careless glance. 
Or slurs it with the selfsame epithet 
135 



Loves Way and Other Poems 

A toothsome cate receives ; anon she '11 pause 
Beside a tumbling forest rill, to scan 
Her chronicle of modes. Ay, sirs, the age 
Demands material values, present pay ; 
We live by bread alone, and are content. 
A fico for "unutterable thoughts ! " 
That thought alone has pith and profit in it 
Which men may set down fair in black and white. 
Trace to the source, its tendency define. 
And label with a qualifying name. 
Nor love we to be teased with glimpses faint 
Of unfamiliar worlds, — ecstatic states. 
Illusions, intuitions, what you will. 
'T is we, that follow our good senses five. 
We, we are normal ; we express the type % 
All else is morbid and fantastical. 
So 't is our preference that prescribes the mode : 
Music must be mimetic. Art assume 
The apron of a craft, and Wisdom wear 
The cap-and-bells of ribald flippancy. 
Vanish, ye vague emotions, and avaunt. 
Ye formless yearnings, infinite regrets ! 
Give us the fare of Bottom, as befits 
These pates of ours 5 your fabled honey-dew 
Leave we to poets and their listeners fond. 
136 



" Diana's Bath " 

Forbear this desultory, cynic strain. 
And temper truth with love ! The passing hour 
Is gracious, and the bird his noonday song 
Begins among the branches ; what a burst 
Of artless eloquence ! what hopes and thrills ! 
What innocent caprice, what elfin mirth ! 
Sing on, dear brother-bard ! thy mood and mine 
Sweet Nature hushes to her breast alike. 
And "Ay, ay, ay ! " she says, and ** By-and-by,*' 
Like an indulgent mother. Softly droop 
The shadowing forest plumes ; the wooing airs 
Are soft as pity, and the brook repeats 
Her few soft syllables. Let anger die. 
Nor fret thyself because of godless men ; 
'Tis mildness wins the world, and love with love 
Is aye requited ; usury nor thrift 
Can e'er achieve so rich a recompense ; 
Her own fair dower she is, the daughter dear 
Of him we name divine. Like to the leaves. 
The poet saith, like to the falling leaves 
The sons of men appear ; but love with life 
Hath bonds reciprocal ; from sires remote 
The clasp of spirit-hands innumerable 
Stretches, a palpitating chain, to thee : 
Not the gray mountains, not the enduring stars 
137 



Love's Way and Other Poems 

Outlive it, for its pulses are aglow 

With fire celestial. Gentle be my speech 

As yonder brooklet's flow : Children of men. 

Orphans of heaven, my hapless brethren dear. 

Who know not where your consolation lies ! 

Ah, listen to the voice, the voice within. 

And heed no more the things that pass away ! 

Then from the silence will a song arise. 

And visions of a loveliness unguessed 

Shall visit you, lifting this mortal veil. 

No transient influence breathing, but with rays 

Of living light purging the spirit-sense 

From grossness, till ye know yourselves indeed 

Encompassed, like the prophet on his mount. 

With shapes of beauty, brighter than the dawn. 

1888. 
Revised, 1896. 



EPHEMERA 



"THE LAST TOKEN »' 
( Gabriel Max) 

She recks not of the many-mouthed rage 

That roafs around the Coliseum's walls ; 
Lightly she pauses, though behind her crawls 

The long lithe tiger, issuing from his cage. 

And though yon loathlier couple, drunk with gore. 
Are tumbling in their maudlin amity 
Beside her on the spotted stones — for, see. 

There lies her lover's rose upon the floor ! 

She sees him, doubt it not ! her pure sweet eyes 
Beam into his that ache with heavy tears. 
And there they rest ; a faint fair smile she wears. 

Grave as a babe's, and innocently wise. 

Art thou a man, O lover ? One swift leap. 
And seek with her the unawakening sleep ! 

August 20, 1876. 



141 



Lovers Way and Other Poems 



"FAR ABOVE RUBIES'' 

All that we dream of gracious or divine 

In woman hath its type ; each holy sprite. 

Poet, or seer, or saintly eremite. 
Resembles woman ; all that doth refine 
The arts, the manners, to her sway benign 

Owes high allegiance ; all things fair and right 

Her weakness champions in the world' s despite : 
Where woman is, no home but hath a shrine ; 
How oft, alas, profaned ! Men crucify 

Her gentle spirit, and to shame betray 
Her innocence with a kiss ; her agony 

And sweat of blood the winds that ever stray 
Forever witness ; and her bitter cry 

Goes up to heaven for vengeance, night and day. 

Sept. I, 1885. 



142 



Independence Day 



INDEPENDENCE DAY 

(^ Tribute and a Plea) 

Land of the prairies, land of rolling meres 

That counterfeit the immeasurable main, 

Ontario, and Cayuga, and Champlain, 
Huron, Oneida, and a score their peers ; 
Not mine a home where Mariposa rears 

Her tree- towers, nor amid some storied plain 
In Marion's country or in Paul Revere' s, 

'Neath Texan mulberries, or the pines of Maine 
Yet would I strike an alien harp for thee. 

Among thy loyal sons, this holiday ; 
Freemen are all compatriots, as the sea 

Speaks the same tongue from Gades to Cathay, 
And for yon banner of the brave and free 

A Hampden bled, a Milton tuned the lay. 

July, 1876. 



143 



Lovers Way and Other Poems 



RHADAMANTHUS 

Prepare to weep, ye lovely ladies all ! 
Of Rhadamanthus and his fate I sing. 
If that my grief the piteous tale permits. 
Nor mars mine utterance ; joy in woe recalled 
Gives e'er the keenest pang. Fairest was he 
Of all the silken race that Beauty loves ; 
For he of right Maltesian stock was bred. 
Witness his hazel orbs and coat of gray ; 
He was a very perfect, gentle cat. 
Patience was his, in cruel suffering proved ; 
For once, a kitling tender, at the heels 
Of his fond mistress following unperceived, 
A grievous wound by sad mischance he took. 
And, but that Yama bears a feeling heart 
And loves to listen to a woman's prayer. 
Young had he perished ; yet for some sweet moons 
We knew him ours. He with swift sidelong leap 
And frolic tail recurvate, still would greet 
Stranger and friend alike ; how soft his song ! 
144 



Rhadamanthus 

How quaint his gambols ! how he loved to chase 

Shadow, or fringed robe, or bounding ball ! 

A hundred wiles he had, and ne*er a fault. 

But O the heavy change, now he is gone. 

And whither gone who knows ? whether the bird 

Of Jove hath rapt him to the immortal seats ; 

Or elfin Puck to fair Titania's car 

Hath bound him with Arachnean cordage taut. 

Whereon the dew-bells ring a silvery chime ; 

Or stretched before the fierce Tartarean blaze 

At Pluto's awful queen he blinks content. 

Forgetful of all sublunary loves. 

Bides hidden. He by many a female tear 

Lamented roams, and as Alcides once 

With '* Hylas ! Hylas ! " plied the mocking maid 

That haunts the hills, so Pussy's mistress now 

To unresponsive walls his name repeats 

In vain, in vain ! no more with mufiled nose 

He takes his rest ; no more with sinuous grace 

His tail pursues ; no more with eager paw 

And proffered kiss he begs his matin meal. 

Woe's me for Rhadamanthus ! heu! och hone! 

1883. 

10 145 



Love's Way and Other Poems 



TO BABY BAYARD 

Dear Baby: 

Proud to know you, sir ! 

When strangers from the skies 
Come to this inn, — the ''Mother's Arms/' 

Their company we prize ; 
The franchise of the world I bring. 

And if you '11 kindly lend 
A listening ear or two, I ' 11 read 

A brief address I 've penned. 

'T is a queer place you are visiting. 

This plaguy planet. Earth, 
Where pleasure 's hand-in-glove with pain. 

And grief succeeds to mirth ; 
A land of toothaches, duns, and bores. 

Love's pangs, and law's delay — 
(Your grandpapa 's in court, or I 

Should have the deuce to pay). 
146 



To Baby Bayard 

See " Hamlet ' ' for the whole black list 

But — on the credit side — 
Fair fame and fortune you may win. 

If you can catch the tide ; 
If not, the voyage of your life 

In shallows will be spent ; 
Or so, at least, old Shacon says, — 

Bakespeare, of course, I meant. 

Yet stay with us, my pretty friend ! 

We '11 make it worth your while ; 
A thousand times a day you '11 see 

The loveliest mother-smile. 
And that, my dear, I promise you. 

Of all that earth can show. 
Is the divinest, finest thing ! 

I think you hardly know 

That you have lost your angel-friends 

And strayed from heaven so far ; 
And half I deem you may be right. 

And heaven is — where you are ; 
For love is all around you, boy. 

And looks with blessing bright. 
And songs that murmur tenderly 

An ever-new delight. 
147 



Love's Way and Other Poems 

And you shall wear the softest robes. 

By loving hands designed ; 
But ''Persian tires" forswear, my boy ! 

A destiny unkind 
Flannels and tweeds for you intends, 

A hat, — the *' stovepipe " called. 
Fatal to curls, — although you seem 

Congeni tally bald. 

But not the cowl the monk doth make. 

Nor gilded spurs the knight. 
And vows of chivalry are ta'en 

By many a simple wight ; 
So, boy, be worthy of your name, 

Frank, manly, and sincere, 
A lover true, a loyal friend, 

''Without reproach or fear." 

1891. 



148 



A Rogue's Epitaph 



A ROGUE'S EPITAPH 

^ (^From the French of Scarron) 

To dance and sing he had been taught 

Who lies below ; full tall was he ; 

Rhymes could he make, — but that is naught, 

And could recite them fluently. 

He had a goodly pedigree 

With names of gallant warriors fraught. 

And, had he such experience sought. 

He too had faced his enemy. 

Right learnedly he talked of war. 

Of land and sea, of sky and star. 

Of codes, the churchly and the lay ; 

Certes, good store of things he knew 

In their effects and causes too. 

Was he an honest man ? — Oh, nay ! 

Feb. 26, 1893. 



149 



Loves Way and Other Poems 



THE FLIGHT OF TIME 

(^From the French of Scarrori) 

Ye stately monuments of human pride. 
Sepulchres, pyramids, whose fabrics grand 
Bear witness how great Nature is defied 
By Art's unceasing toil and cunning hand ; 
Old palaces, by Roman genius planned. 
Whereon their all of skill the builders plied ; 
Thou Coliseum, where so oft a band 
Of ruthless fools in mutual slaughter vied ! 
Injurious Time hath done you quite away. 
Or levelled half your honors with the clay ; 
There is no mortar that he cannot melt. 
Hence, if your marble hard his force hath felt. 
Though in two years this wretched coat of mine 
Is out at elbows — let me not repine ! 

Feb. 26, 1893. 



150 



Epitaph : Catherine de Medicis 

EPITAPH : CATHERINE DE MEDICIS 

{From the French^ 

Angel she was and fiend who lies below ; 
Much did she win of praise and much of scorn. 
Three kings, three civil wars, of her were born ; 
She builded castles, and laid cities low ; 
She did sustain and overturn the State ; 
Concord she brought and many a fierce debate ; 
Good laws and ill decrees to her we owe : 
Let's pray that heaven and hell may be her fate. 

May, 1893. 

FROM THE FRENCH OF MADAME 
DE STAEL 

'' My Life ! " you say : '* My Soul ! " more pleases 
me; 

From you I crave a less ephemeral name. 

Fleeting is life ; a breath may quench its flame : 
Love shares the spirit's immortality. 

October, 1891. 

151 



Loves Way and Other Poems 



HIDE-AND-SEEK 

{After Cherbuliex) 

Of old, in fields and woodland ways 
(Ah, happy unforgotten days !), 
By hazel copse or pasture sleek 
We used to play at hide-and-seek. 
Of old, in fields and woodland ways. 
Do you remember, Angelique ? 
Ah, happy unforgotten days ! 

Of old, in fields and woodland ways 
A-playing thus at hide-and-seek. 
So well we foiled the searcher's gaze 
That nevermore, dear Angelique, 
(Ah, happy unforgotten days !) 
Whether in fields or woodland ways 
To your sweet side I pierce the maze ! 

1887. 



152 



On a Blank Page of Thackeray 



ON A BLANK PAGE OF THACKERAY 

What's here ? a rabble rout of young and old. 
From far climes gathered, and a vanished age } 
A motley microcosm of sot and sage. 

Marquis and merry-andrew, saint and scold. 
Where frieze and cloth-of-gold, 

Steenkirk and stock, l>as bleus and white cockade. 

Mingle in multicolored masquerade. 

Those Apollonian limbs, that crest of hair 

Bespeak the ambrosial Chawles, companion good 
Of beauty's car ; My Lord of Casdewood 

Reels home with Costigan, Silenian pair ; 
While 'Trix upon the stair 

Flings as she turns a Parthian glance, and shows 

To Foker jils an inch of scarlet hose. 

What, Becky, stitching for young Rawdon still ? 
And look ! our cheery Begum, arm-in-arm 
With him of Boggley WoUah ! o'er *' Mes Larmes ' 

153 



Lovers Way and Other Poems 

Matilda sighs ; the effervescent Phil 
Trolls " Luther" with a will ; 
And on the Little Sister's loving breast 
Sweet Fanny Bolton sobs herself to rest. 

Lo Esmond, virgin still of dread or blame. 

Forever luckless and forever leal ! 

How like a lily in a helm of steel 
Doth modesty accord with knightly fame ! 

And *' Adsum ! " to his name 
The Colonel answers ; never heart did beat 
More true than thine, O simple soul and sweet. 

We come and go lik^ shadows on a dial ; 

These, whom the spells of Art about us call. 

Alone endure ; the very festival 
We keep to-day, but marks another mile 

Tow'rd the last parting stile : 
But Helen's glance and Desdemona's tears 
Span with perpetual sheen the rushing years. 

Nay, dear, but these are shadows ; thou and I 
Breathe vital air ; though art be long, and life 
Brief as the blossom, love like ours, my wife. 
Runs with the cycle of eternity ! 
The stars in yonder sky 
154 



On a Blank Page of Thackeray 

Like lamps are quenched — Love out of Love still 

grows. 
Sown with all winds, the imperishable rose ! 

February 9, 1883. 

(L's birthday.) 



VALETE I 



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